Some Nights
by otto-tis-eratai
Summary: Or "Six times Mulder and Scully slept together, and one time they did something more". Some fluff, some angst, some hurt/comfort elements, eventual smut, lots of friendship. Episodes: Irresistible, The Rain King, Arcadia, Milagro, Orison, Sein und Zeit, all things. MSR.
1. Post Irresistible

_Hi everyone :) This is my first X-files story. I started watching the show in March (I'm currently halfway through season 9) and I loved it. What I didn't like was the tons of cute, romantic, even friendly moments between Mulder and Scully that were regularly left unsaid. So yeah, this work is basicaly my mind having a good time trying to fill in those gaps._

 _It's a series of one shots, there will be seven in total (already written) and I'll add the wordcount at the beginning each time, but they have a theme in common so I decided to treat them like chapters of a regular fanfic._

 _English is not my first language, so you may spot some mistakes. Feedback is always very welcome, here, on AO3, or on my new Tumblr, otto-tis-eratai dot tumblr dot com._

 _Enjoy :)_

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 **I. In The Dark of the Night (Post Irresistible)**

 _Wordcount: 3149 words_

She hated this. She hated how everyone would now think of her as a victim. She hated that she was sore all over, and she hated that the level of adrenaline in her body was still so high that she could actually barely feel the pain.

But most of all, Scully hated how Mulder gently raised her chin with delicate fingers, forcing her to look at him in the eyes, making all of her barriers tumble down. How was a woman even supposed to recompose herself, when her partner looked at her like that. Before she could rationally realise it, her lips began to tremble, and a sob escaped her mouth. To reach for him and crash her head against his chest was almost an instinct, driven by her shock and by his evident and not misplaced worry for her state of mind. She should have had the paramedics take a look at her, but of course she realised this too late.

He wasn't expecting it. He could sense she was not fine, as opposed to what she kept repeating over and over again, but he hadn't expected her to fall apart like this. He welcomed her in his arms nonetheless. He cared about her, probably more than it would be considered normal for work partners, and he hated the thought that something bad could have happened to her. The persistent fear of losing her was already a constant in his life, that came along with her very presence. He remembered the fear, the despair that filled his days while she was abducted, always wondering if he would ever see her again one day, and he wanted to experience that as little as possible. So when she started sobbing against his chest, wrapping her arms around him, all he could do was hold her close, soothe her, stroke her hair, kiss her head, and whisper "it's all right" so silently that only she could hear it. He felt an outburst of tenderness for this tiny woman in his arms, momentarily forgetting how strong she really was, and at first he tried to push this feeling back, because she wouldn't want him to think of her like that, but eventually he stopped. He just wanted to take care of her, protect her, help her feel safe.

"It's okay, you're safe now," he whispered against her head.

It's okay to let go, he meant. He wanted to tell her that it's okay to be human. It's okay to be scared and to let it show, it's okay to ask for help, no one is invincible. He wanted her to know that he was fine with this, they were partners after all, and as such they had to help each other.

He never voiced any of that.

Soon her sobs and sighs became less frequent, less strong, and she slowly freed herself from his embrace. At first she kept looking down at her shoes, slightly embarrassed by the situation. Looking that vulnerable in front of him was exactly the thing she'd wanted to avoid all along.

"When is our flight home?" she asked with a still broken voice.

He recognised her attempt at changing topic, ignoring everything that just happened, and although he thought it would have been better to talk about it, he respected her choice.

"I don't know yet, I'll call in a minute and see what they have," he replied, happy that she at least raised her head to look at him while he spoke. Her eyes were red and puffy, there was a bruise on her chin and one on her forehead, and he couldn't even imagine how many more were hidden beneath her clothes. _Oh Scully, what has he done to you._

"I'll go talk to Agent Bocks, in case he has questions," she said. Then she walked away from Mulder. He saw her blow her nose and take a deep breath before approaching the other man on the other side of the room.

She already didn't look like the fragile thing who soaked his shirt with tears anymore. He suspected it was just a cover, he was sure of it in fact, and he had to fight his instinct to grab her hand and take her away from this damn house, take her somewhere where she would feel safe, telling her she could talk to the agent tomorrow after a night of rest and recovery.

Once again instead, he respected her choice to be strong, and walked outside to book two seats on the earliest plane to Washington DC.

In the meantime, she answered all Bocks' question, even the toughest ones, trying to give as much detail as possible. That made her proud of herself. She was good. She was strong. She could do this.

"Thank you for your help, Agent Scully. I'll call you if I have any more questions, but for now we are done," Bocks said, and she nodded. The fight was over, she won. She turned around and looked for Mulder, who was leaning against a wall. They could go now. Everything was over, Pfaster had been caught, she was safe. He wouldn't get to her again.

She kept repeating that to herself during the car journey to the motel. She stared out of the window, thankful that Mulder was just driving and not trying to start a conversation about what happened earlier, and while she rationally knew that everything now was fine, her brain kept replaying the images of what happened, and she could do nothing about it. She knew she was safe, but she also knew it would take a while to actually get over all of this. She would feel better in the morning, after a shower and a night of rest, when the light of the day would make everything seem more distant, she told herself.

She got a room at the motel, a different one than the one she had the previous nights. Mulder walked her right in front of it, not saying a word.

"So, our flight is at 1 pm," he said eventually.

Scully just nodded. "Great, thanks."

"Sure you're going to be fine?" he asked. He was still worried for her, and he just hoped she would fall asleep quickly and sleep through the night.

She looked down, and he immediately knew she didn't like his question, he knew she didn't like her little display of vulnerability earlier that night and that he had just reminded it to her, but he had to ask, just once, just to be sure that she still fully intended to keep her mask on.

"I'm good," she replied, "Good night."

He nodded. "You know where my room is, if you need anything. Good night."

He began to walk away, but suddenly she realised she didn't have anything with her, so she stopped him.

"Wait!"

He turned around, a hopeful look in his eyes.

"By any chance, did you get my overnight bag from the car?" she asked.

"Uhm, no, sorry, I didn't think about it, I just wanted to…" reach you in time and make sure you were still alive, he was going to add, but didn't. "Do you need something?"

"Just some antiseptic, and band-aids, if you have any."

"Sure. I'll be right back," he said, then walked away.

She got in her room, and closed the door behind her. Then, she locked it. The darkness and the fact that she was now alone didn't help her feel safe at all. She pulled the curtains closed, and switched all the lights on. Light was good.

She was already undressing when a couple of minutes later, there was a knock on her door. She instinctively jumped in fear, her heart starting to beat faster, her hands getting immediately sweaty.

"Scully, it's me, I got your stuff," Mulder said from the other side of the door.

She sighed in relief. Right, of course, the band-aids.

She opened the door and he handed her a bag with the few things she'd asked for.

"Thanks."

"Do you need anything else?"

She hesitated for a moment. There was a very small part of her that was tempted to ask him to stay. Not for long, just while she had a shower, or until she fell asleep, but then again, she'd already shown him enough weakness for one day. Now the danger was gone, she could survive the night by herself.

"I'm fine thank you. See you in the morning," was her final reply, before locking the door again.

She took a hot shower, scrubbing her skin hard with the small motel soap bar, trying to wash away the dirty feeling of Pfaster's hands on her. Accidentally she removed the scab that had formed on one of the bruises she had on the leg, and it started bleeding again.

"Fuck!" she hissed. She violently hit the wall with the hand that wasn't holding the soap, and cried. She could cry as much as she wanted, now that no one could see or hear her. She cried because that bastard had hurt her, because she didn't deserve this, none of those women, brutally murdered and mutilated, deserved this. She cried because he was pure evil, and didn't deserve to live. She let out the pain and anger she was feeling inside, she let her tears flow, without barriers or concerns, and let the water from the shower wash them away together with the blood on her leg.

She stayed there until the water became warm first, and then cold in a matter of minutes.

After wearing again her dirty bra and panties, she disinfected her wounds, put a band-aid on the one on her chin, elbow, and leg, and checked out the other reddish bruises that were forming on the rest of her body. Some of them hurt quite a lot, especially when she tried to touch them, and although she had nothing broken, she realised she was going to feel that fall from the stairs for days.

She had no other clothes with her, so she decided to sleep in her underwear, putting an extra blanket on the bed to avoid getting cold. She wondered if she should have asked Mulder to get her one of his t-shirts. He was much bigger than her, it would have worked well as a nightdress, but then again, wearing one of his t-shirt to bed was an undeniable act of intimacy that she wasn't sure would be appropriate.

She sighed in a mixture of pain and relief when she finally settled under the covers and switched off the light. Much to her surprise, she was so exhausted that she fell asleep in a matter of minutes.

Unfortunately, Pfaster was there waiting for her, just on the other side, on the edge of her subconscious mind, in a parallel universe where Mulder never came to rescue her. She kicked, and screamed, and cried, trying to get away from his grasp, but he was huge compared to her, and there was not much she could do. She tried, though. She bit his hand that was covering her mouth to muffle her desperate sounds, she bit it so hard that she drew blood, and promptly took the escape way that had opened. She ran up the stairs, without knowing where she was going, when suddenly she realised she wasn't going anywhere. She ran and ran, but the stairs kept pulling her back, like an escalator, and he was waiting for her at the bottom, an evil grin on his face. Suddenly, his whole body transformed, turning into a black demonic figure, and he gripped her ankle. She screamed.

She woke up panting, bathed in her own sweat, her heart pounding so hard against her chest that she could feel it in her ears.

 _It was just a dream, Dana. Just a dream. He's not coming back. He's not going to hurt you._

She kept repeating this to herself over and over again, like a mantra, and she knew it was the truth, but the darkness of the room and her still half asleep state didn't allow her rational mind to fully kick in. She tried to relax and doze off again, but in that moment, in the dark of the night, as dark as his house and the closet he'd kept her in, every sound terrified her, every sound reminded her of him. She could hear a couple of cars passing by, and wondered if it could be him coming for her, to get his revenge. She could hear steps coming from the floor above her, and she wondered if he was already here, looking for her. Maybe she couldn't see him in the darkness, but he was already in her room.

Suddenly, she heard a thud coming from somewhere. That was the moment she decided she wasn't going to stay there alone a minute longer. She had to get out, run away. Mulder's room was fairly close, he could help her. He could protect her. She still had a hard time admitting it, but she felt so safe in his arms, earlier that night.

She quickly wore her shoes and her brown coat, grabbed her room keys, and stormed out.

As soon she stepped outside, she felt even less safe than before. The parking lot in front of her room was desert, only a few cars here and there, one of them was white, while the closest street lamp blinked, from time to time. There was a man leaning against one of the cars, with a bottle of beer in his hand. It looked as if he was checking her out. She realised her jacket was hanging open, revealing her semi-naked body underneath.

She gasped, closing it around her body with her hands, and walked away as quickly as she could, directed towards Mulder's room. It was on the second floor. She found the stairs and she climbed them two steps at a time, while the images of her dream overlapped with reality, giving her the impression that someone was following her.

Once she reached Mulder's room, she used her whole fist to knock loudly on his door.

"Mulder! Mulder it's me, open the door!" she yelled, her breath heavy, as the feeling of being observed wouldn't let her be.

After a few seconds of loud thumping, a confused and concerned Mulder opened the door.

"Scully, what…"

He couldn't even manage to finish his sentence that she had already run inside. It was a weird feeling, the one that struck her as soon as he once again asked "is everything okay?". It was a mix of relief for finally feeling safe, and also a little embarrassment, because her rationality was finally kicking in, and as the seconds went by and he kept staring at her waiting for an answer, it became harder to explain even to herself why she'd been so scared.

"I'm fine," was her automatic reply, but she knew this time it would be very hard to believe.

As a matter of fact, he didn't. Not that he had before, he always knew she wasn't fine at all, but this time something had made her run out of her room, in the middle of the night, wearing only her coat and shoes, and he had to know what happened. He had to help her.

"Scully?" he prompted her softly, walking towards her, gently placing a hand on her shoulder.

She shivered at the contact. The night made everything harder, including pretending to be strong and invulnerable. She knew she'd been tricked by her own mind, she knew there was no one harming her, but she still didn't want to go back to her room. She tried to explain it to him without completely losing her dignity, but only a series of incoherent stuttering came out of her mouth.

As if he could read her mind, he smiled gently.

"It's okay, you know," he said, as she looked up to meet his eyes, "it's okay to be scared."

Her lower lip quivered at the sweetness in his voice. "Is it?"

"Of course it is, Scully, this situation would scare the crap out of me too."

He didn't know if it was supposed to be a giggle, the short sound she made, but he did know that whatever it was, it was evidence that he was saying the right things.

"I would be terrified of spending the night alone," he continued, "I mean, maybe not in my own house, but here, in this motel… I would be."

As he raised his hand from her shoulder to cup her cheek, she swallowed her pride and found the courage to ask him what she'd wanted to ask him all along. "Do you think I can stay here until morning?"

"Sure you can," he replied, his thumb delicately stroking her cheek. "Take the bed, I'll get the couch."

He removed his hand from her face and turned towards the couch, but she stopped him before he could actually move.

"Wait, at least let _me_ take the couch."

He knew this was yet another way of proving her strength to him, and probably in any other situation he would have agreed to her request, but right now she was visibly sore all over, no way he would let her aggravate the situation by sleeping on something uncomfortable, even if it was just for a few hours.

"Scully, you're hurt, just take the bed, alright?" he said softly.

 _You can stop being the warrior for tonight. Let me help you, Dana._

She wanted to retort something, but the sleepiness and the cold that were starting to creep up her bones eventually made her drop the argument.

"Thanks," was all she said.

He took a pillow and settled on the couch, while she took off her shoes and coat before slipping under the covers. She didn't care if he could see her in her underwear, there was no shame in that. Besides, it had already happened.

The sheets were still warm from the presence of his body, and she let herself enjoy the feeling against her cold naked skin. She could also smell him on the pillow. She'd never say it out loud, but he did have a nice smell, very masculine, she liked it.

As he tried to find a position on the couch that he wouldn't regret in the morning, he heard her breath becoming deeper and more regular, and he smiled to himself. He was glad she let him help her. Maybe tonight they did take a step forward in their relationship.

He woke up in the early morning with a sore neck, and the sunbeams enlightening the room. His bed was empty, Scully was gone.

He got up and headed to the bathroom.


	2. Mid The Rain King

_Thanks to everyone who read this :)_

 _The following is my take on the room sharing thing in The Rain King. Pure friendship for now._

 _Enjoy!_

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 **II. You've Got a Friend in Me (Mid The Rain King)**

 _Wordcount: 2980 words_

Due to particularly bizarre causes, they had to share a room that night.

It was fine for both of them, and there was no other solution anyway, unless one of them decided to sleep in the car. Understandably, neither of them volunteered and neither of them felt it was right to ask the other.

Mulder emerged from the bathroom followed by a cloud of steam, dressed up in a white t-shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants, holding in his hands his dirty laundry and toiletries.

"Are you done, Mulder?" Scully asked, a bit annoyed. She was sitting at the small desk, waiting for him to be done with his lifelong shower, so that she too could get ready for bed.

"Yep, it's all yours," he replied.

"You'd better hope you didn't use up all the hot water," she said, eyeing the steam still lingering in front of the bathroom door. She got up to collect her pyjamas and other stuff from her bag, but before she could head towards the bathroom, she witnessed a weird scene: Mulder had taken a pillow from the bed and dropped it on the floor.

"What… what are you doing?" she asked, frankly puzzled.

"I'm making my bed," he answered, sitting down on the floor.

She had to stop him. Having him sleep on the couch was fine, but there was no couch, and no cot too, not even an armchair, and the floor idea was simply ridiculous. The carpet was dirty, with some stains here and there of who knows what foul-smelling substance, as well as a considerable amount of dust. She couldn't even imagine how many mites or germs could be living in there. She decided they could definitely share the bed.

"Come on, you're not going to sleep on the floor," she announced, "there's a queen size bed, there's enough room for both of us."

She wasn't actually sure it was a queen size bed, could have also been full size, but that was still better than him catching leptospirosis or something like that.

He raised an eyebrow in doubt. "Really? Are you sure? I don't want to…"

"Yes, come on," she interrupted him, "we're two adults, we know each other, we can share a bed for one night."

"What about the Bureau rules?"

She bit her lower lip before answering. "Well, I'm not going to write this in my report, are you?"

He shook his head with a smile and thanked her.

She closed the bathroom door behind her, the last image of the room being her partner slipping under the covers in their bed.

Their bed.

She leaned against the door and brushed a hand over her face, while the implications of this started to sink down on her. They were going to share a bed. She was going to spend the night sleeping just a few inches away from the man she was in love with.

Yes, she was in love with Mulder. When it started exactly, she couldn't say, she just knew that by now she had learned to accept it and be honest with herself. He should never know, though. She would never act on it.

First, there were rules she had to respect. If they were ever to enter a romantic relationship and someone had to find out, they might end up being separated and not allowed to work together anymore. And that, of course, would appear on her resume. So no, she had very little intention of putting her career and professional reputation in jeopardy.

Second, she knew very well that every action had consequences, and she was afraid of losing him, of losing their friendship, their partnership. It was the most precious thing she had, and she cherished it too much to risk ruining it with sex and romance. Those two factors changed every relationship, she knew it, he knew it, everyone knew it, and she wasn't sure she was ready to lose her friend. What if they tried and it didn't work out? That could happen. Just because two people are friends, doesn't mean they would automatically make good lovers.

The third motivation, and truest one, was something she kept hidden deep inside her heart, not willing to admit it to anyone, including herself. She feared the intimacy, the exposure that was consequence of every romantic relationship. Right now, with Mulder being her friend, she could keep him at arm's length, she could push him away and shut him out if she felt she wanted to, but if they were to take the next step, she would lose that right, she would need to accept that there was another person in her life, that she wasn't alone anymore, that she didn't have full control over every single thing. She would need to open her heart completely. And this, to Scully, in that moment of her life, was a scary thought.

No, things were good as they were now. She was fine with it. She just had to survive the night.

Once she was ready for bed several minutes later, she left the bathroom, and found Mulder sitting on the bed, his back against the pillow and his legs splayed out in front of him under the covers, randomly watching some TV. As he saw her approaching and taking her place next to him in the bed, he grabbed the remote and switched the TV off.

"You can keep watching if you want to, it doesn't bother me," she said, as she lay down on her side facing away from him.

"It's okay, I'll try to get some sleep, there was nothing interesting anyway."

"Okay… uhm, good night then."

"Good night Scully."

He switched off the light and lay down on his side, mirroring her position. He rarely slept on his side, he usually preferred to sleep on his back, but he didn't want to make her feel uncomfortable by taking up too much space. Not that it looked like she was comfortable now. He'd peeked at her quickly before darkness fell on them, and he noticed she was practically lying on the edge of the bed, just a couple of inches more at her left and she would have fallen off. She clearly wanted as much room as possible between them, and he could do this for her, it was her bed anyway. Plus, it was probably a good thing for him too, having her as far away as possible, it would reduce the risks that could potentially arise in this situation.

He sighed and tried to stop his mind from going there. She was his partner, his friend, he shouldn't be thinking of her like that, especially when she was sleeping in his same bed. But he did love her, and want her, all the time. He also knew he was never going to try and cross the invisible line between their friendship and something else, too afraid to make a huge mistake, and ruin the only good thing he had in his life. He had decided that their partnership was going to be fine eventually, and he meant to stick to that plan.

He tried to focus on tornados and cows, instead of her.

She bit her lip hearing his sigh, a clear sign that he was still awake. She was hoping one of them would fall asleep quickly enough to spare her from this torture, but it was becoming apparent that luck didn't have her back tonight.

She felt terribly uncomfortable, much more that what she'd previously imagined. She was aware of each and every breath she was taking, she was afraid of disturbing him with her movements and at the same time, she was afraid she was going to do something embarrassing in her sleep. What if she talked, or farted? Or worse, what if her brain decided it was the perfect night to have an erotic dream, maybe about Mulder himself? What if she ended up moving too much while asleep, and ended up snuggling with him? Her heart started to race with anxiety at these possibilities.

It wasn't even the good kind of awkwardness, the one you get when you sleep next to someone you would like to do much more with, it was just pure discomfort, as if she was sharing the bed with a stranger. She thought it was normal, though. She'd been sleeping alone for years, she couldn't even remember the last time she slept with someone else in her bed. She shifted a little and closed her eyes, trying to think of something nice that could lull her to sleep. Possibly not him.

He felt a movement on the sheets coming from her side, and he immediately knew she was still awake, just like him. For him it was pretty normal, he was never in good terms with Morpheus, but he knew she usually succumbed to sleep fairly easily. He wondered what was wrong, and if there was something he could do.

"Hey Scully," he whispered in the darkness, "are you awake?"

She opened her eyes, surprised to hear his voice. "Yes, why? Is something wrong?"

He shook his head, although he knew she couldn't see him. "I was just wondering, did you used to have slumber parties as a kid?"

For a second, she wondered if she'd fallen asleep and this was just a very weird dream. "I remember a couple of them, back in junior high, but I was never into that kind of stuff. _Why?_ "

He completely ignored her question. "Why didn't you like it? I loved them, I had so much fun every time."

"Mulder, why are you keeping me awake to talk about slumber parties?" she repeated with a hint of irritation.

"Nothing, I just thought…" he trailed off. He just thought it would be nice to distract her from the situation, and briefly engage her in a conversation that might have put her more at ease. "Never mind. Good night Scully."

She found his behaviour incredibly odd, but decided to just ignore it. Who knows what was going on in that mind of his.

She knew perfectly well what was going on in hers, though. She rolled on her back, one arm tucked beneath her head and one on her stomach, as some memories of her early teenage years flashed through her mind.

She remembered her very first slumber party. She was in 6th grade, at Hannah Norton's house. Scully didn't even want to go, but her mother had insisted, saying it wasn't nice to reject an invitation to a birthday party without a good reason. That night, her fingernails and toenails ended up being painted with a bright pink nail polish. It was the first and last time she had that colour on her. She hated it, that just wasn't her style, she was never into this girls stuff. Plus, the following day her brothers made fun of her and kept calling her "Barbie" even after she convinced her mother to remove all of it.

She didn't realise she'd said all of this out loud, until she heard a chuckle coming from Mulder's mouth. He was lying on his side, one hand under the pillow, facing her, his head and shoulder barely lit by the moonlight that peeked through the window. She couldn't help cracking a smile too.

"It's not funny," she said, but actually it was, a little, "I still hate colourful nail polish, I hardly wear it."

"Yeah, I've noticed that. You only wear the transparent one, or those nude shades."

There was a moment of silence, in which she let herself appreciate the fact that he noticed the little details about her, even the smallest, most insignificant ones, like her nails.

"What about you? You said you loved slumber parties," she prompted him after a few seconds, her gaze shifting from the ceiling to him and back.

"I did, yes. I had this friend, Joe, I can't remember if it was 6th or 7th grade… 7th I think, but anyway, he had this huge house and liked camping in his own back yard and he often invited me and other boys to camp with him. It was fun."

One of the reasons why he loved those camping nights so much was that sometimes Joe's older brother, a sophomore student, hung along too, and brought nice porn magazines for everyone to check out. That was Mulder's first introduction to naked ladies, at a time where he only masturbated by drawing tits on stick figures. He omitted this particular aspect while talking to Scully.

She was smiling at his story, finding herself happy that he felt like sharing these little bits of his past with her. She couldn't help thinking what a cheerful, happy boy he must have been before Samantha was abducted, but didn't mention this. She didn't want to spoil this sort of conversation with sad memories. Although they were friends and partners and saw each other basically every day, they very rarely talked about themselves, like this. She decided to cherish this unusual moment, in this dark motel room, and keep the conversation going.

She asked him what Fox was like in school, and gladly listened to his portrayal of his younger self, a solitary boy with a love/hate relationship with stars, who had a hard time socialising with peers and played basketball randomly after school. Then it was her turn to describe teenager Dana to him, a brilliant young mind torn between a yearning for rebellion and old Catholic values. She also wore braces until 10th grade, she added, and he laughed.

And as their souls and minds got closer, and met each other in this ephemeral intimacy that sharing memories created, their bodies too followed, involuntarily shifting more and more towards the middle of the bed, the discomfort gradually fading away with each word. They wondered why they never talked like this more often.

"It looks like we did have a sort of slumber party," she said. They were both lying on their backs now, so close to each other that their shoulders touched.

"Really? I don't know about the parties you went to, Scully, but as far as my experience goes, you have to talk about the opposite sex for it to be a real slumber party," he pointed out with a smirk, glancing at her without turning his head.

She wasn't sure she felt like talking to him about that specific topic. Not that there was much to say.

He sensed her hesitation. "Or, you know, we could play 'spin the bottle'," he added teasingly, and as an answer, she shot him a 'not even in your dreams' look.

"Right, what do you want to know?" she said eventually. They were just friends having a chat. Friends talked about this stuff, it was normal. Maybe it could be fun.

She couldn't physically see his lips curl into a smile, but she knew it was happening.

"Well, was Dana popular with boys?"

"Uhm, Dana wasn't that pretty back then, you know, and she was also a little too focused on school to really get into the dating game," she stated, one hand raising to play with her own hair, "then in senior year I met Marcus, and I thought he was the one, you know, teenager stuff. And that's about how popular Dana was with boys."

"So this Marcus guy was the first one you did the naked pretzel with?"

She was surprised that his private, straightforward question didn't offend her in the slightest. This was really turning out to be fun.

She realised that if she focused hard enough, she could recall the last time she slept with a man, but she couldn't say the same about the last time she spent some quality time with her best friend.

"Yes," she replied eventually.

"Since this is a slumber party, I'm now supposed to ask how it went, right?"

She smirked in the darkness. "He had no idea what he was doing, and I didn't either."

He chuckled.

"Well, what about Fox?" she curiously asked.

"Fox remained celibate until university," he replied, "I made out with a couple of girls in school, but never went past first base with any of them."

"So when did you, you know, finally get to the naked pretzel, as you call it?" she inquired, and he giggled at her attempt at borrowing his expression.

"Her name was Jane Davey, first year in Oxford. She liked my American accent," he replied proudly.

"And?"

"And what?"

"How was it?"

He bit his lower lip, thinking back at his first sexual experience. "Well, I… by then I had a pretty vast experience with porn magazines to back me up, so yeah… I had no idea what I was doing," he admitted.

They laughed softly, together. Her laughter was so beautiful, yet sounded so sadly unfamiliar to his ears.

They told each other a couple more stories from college before she started yawning, and they decided to call it a night. Neither of them moved, they remained like that, on their backs, with their shoulders touching, her head slightly turned towards him.

Her last conscious thought before drifting off to sleep was that maybe there was a chance that a romantic relationship wouldn't mine the beautiful friendship they had. No matter what, he'd always be her best friend. And maybe, just maybe, completely opening her heart to him wouldn't be so bad after all.

He remained awake a little longer, as usual. Eventually he closed his eyes and he sneaked his arms under the covers, his right hand meeting her left one. He kept replaying the whole conversation in his head with a smile on his lips, his pinkie finger distractedly stroking hers, lightly enough so that she wouldn't wake up. Soon he fell asleep too.


	3. Mid Arcadia

_Just a short thing that takes place after Scully kicks Mulder out of the bedroom in Arcadia. Some more friendship and some fluff. Thanks once again to everyone who read this :)_

* * *

 **III. Eye to eye (Mid Arcadia)**

 _Wordcount: 2549 words_

Mulder rolled over onto his stomach for probably the fourth time in half an hour, his whole body aching in places he didn't even know could ache. The lower part of his back, his nape, and his knees, God, his knees were the worst. For the second night in a row, she'd taken the bed, and invited him not so implicitly to go sleep on the couch. He was happy to accommodate her at first, sure that there would be no problem since he often slept on the couch even at his own place, but this damn couch was hell on Earth. Although it looked brand new, it was way too soft, and lumpy, and definitely too small for a 6 ft tall man. If he wanted his head to rest properly on the pillow, he had to keep his legs tucked up against his chest, or his back hunched over. In either way, it was not comfortable at all.

The previous night he was awake almost the whole time, because no position was comfortable enough to sleep in. Tonight, he'd tried to convince her to let him sleep next to her on the bed, but clearly with no success.

He sighed, rolling once more onto his back to stretch his legs, wishing he wasn't such a gentleman.

However, he soon started thinking that he couldn't stay awake another night, he needed to get at least a couple hours of sleep. While staring at the ceiling, one leg leaning up on the backside of the couch, he made what in his mind was the most incredible plan. He would sneak in the bedroom, very silently, get in the bed, sleep a couple of hours, and get up before her alarm went off. She slept very easily and very deeply, so he only had to be careful enough, and she wouldn't notice his presence.

He got up from the couch, hissing in pain as his whole body finally got to a straight position, and tiptoed to the bedroom.

As predicted, he was welcomed by the sound of steady breaths, clear evidence that Scully was indeed sound asleep.

He sat on the edge of the bed as slowly as possible, careful not to make it tilt too much or too violently, and gradually moved his body to a supine position. Or he would have, if a scream hadn't made him jump up in fear.

"FREEZE!"

Scully was now fully awake, sitting up on the bed and pointing a gun at him.

His heart was hammering in his chest. "Fuck Scully what the hell, it's me!"

She immediately lowered the weapon, then secured it and put it back under the pillow. "Sorry."

"Since when do you sleep with a gun?" he asked, still catching his breath and bringing a hand to his chest, to make sure he wasn't having a heart attack.

"Since we are on this case," she replied, "I felt something sneaking up next to me, it could have been anything, or anyone. Can you blame me?"

He didn't say anything, he just thought that he deeply admired her reflexes.

"What are _you_ doing here, by the way?" she asked again.

"I, uhm… the couch is killing me, so I thought, you know, that I could sleep here for a couple of hours."

"What's wrong with the couch?"

"I told you, it's not comfortable."

"You slept on it yesterday."

He sighed, trying not to lose his cool and to understand what her problem was exactly. "I didn't really sleep, let's say I lay there for a few hours. It's too small for me, and lumpy, and…"

"Oh," she interrupted him, lowering her eyes, a thoughtful expression depicted on her face.

Silence fell between them for a moment, as she considered his issues and made up her mind in a matter of seconds.

He saw her standing up, and grabbing her pillow and her gun, before heading towards the bedroom door.

"Wait, what are you doing?" he asked, following her with his gaze, as much as the darkness allowed him to.

"I'll take the couch for tonight," she announced, "it's no big deal. Plus I'm much shorter than you, I'll be fine."

He couldn't believe his ears. "Scully come on, we can share the bed."

Her mind lingered for a moment on his proposition.

"I'd rather not to. Good night Mulder." she said eventually. Then, she left the room.

Still incredulous of what just happened, he settled under the comforter, and couldn't repress a groan of pleasure as finally all his body lay straight in a horizontal position. He spread all his limbs until his figure formed a star on the bed, and wiggled his toes in content. His right hand could feel the warm spot left by her body.

He couldn't understand why she wouldn't want to sleep next to him. They'd done that in the past, with excellent results, he really couldn't see the problem. He shrugged to himself, too busy enjoying the sensation of comfort spreading through his whole body to meditate about what went on in her mind. She would regret her choice anyway sooner or later, that couch was just horrible. He made a mental note to complain with Skinner about the poor quality of the furniture assigned to undercover agents.

He was so tired and feeling so good, compared to the couch, that he almost fell asleep immediately, but right when he was about to, a sound of steps approaching the bed caught his attention.

"You were right," Scully whispered, "it's lumpy."

He smiled to himself at her admission, and used a hand to pat the mattress as to welcome her back.

"Finally reunited in our conjugal nest," he commented with a grin, as he felt her lie down next to him.

She sighed loudly. "Shut up, Mulder, will you?"

The grin on his face instantly disappeared as he heard the annoyed tone she used. It wasn't the first time she told him to shut up, it seemed to be one of her favourite things to tell him in fact, but this time her voice was flat, upset. Clearly something was bothering her.

"Is something wrong?" he asked tentatively.

"No."

Damn, that voice again, he thought.

Although she was facing away from him, she could sense his internal struggle between dropping the not yet born argument and probing her with further questions. She hoped the first one won. She just wanted to sleep, really.

"Is it… is it something I said?" he tried again, cautiously, not even quite sure this was about him at all, she'd just been in a bad mood for the past few days.

"I said I'm fine, Mulder. Can we go back to sleep? I have to drive to San Diego in a few hours."

She'd really tried to sound relaxed, but her voice once again had come out way harsher than she wanted, thus betraying her intentions.

"Come on, Scully, why won't you tell me what's wrong?"

At that question, she finally understood he wasn't going to drop this. She sat up on the bed, switching on the light on her nightstand, and looked around the room, as if she was looking for the right words. "You want to talk about it? Fine, let's talk about it. I don't like your behaviour here, the way you act. It's extremely upsetting, and I'd be glad if you could just cut it."

She spit it all out, just like that, leaving him wondering what she even meant by that. He sat up on the bed too.

"What are you talking about?"

She gazed back at him. "You keep touching me. Every second, your arm is around me, it's suffocating, and… and all those comments about our private life, or that thing you said, that I'm the one into paranormal stuff, it wasn't fun."

His jaw had metaphorically dropped during her little speech. He could sense she tensed up every time he acted like perfect husband Rob, he wasn't stupid, but he really thought she was fine with it, he was just teasing after all.

"I- I was joking around, Scully. I just wanted to make it more believable, we are supposed to be a married couple, it was just for fun," he stuttered.

"Well, brevity is the soul of wit, Mulder, you should know that."

A moment of silence followed, both taking a moment to ponder each other's words. He was left wondering when exactly he started bothering her. It was never his intention. He just wanted to play.

She too thought again about the whole situation, and wondered if she'd just overreacted, if she could blame everything on her utter lack of sense of humour. However, the truth was that there was something else hidden deeper. She still thought about what happened with Diana, just a couple of weeks earlier, when Mulder chose to trust Diana instead of her. She wasn't going to mention this now, she'd learned to never dig up old arguments, but sometimes her mind would just go there on its own. She'd felt betrayed, tossed aside. She'd felt as if she was just his second choice, as if she was his best friend just because he had no other friends.

And now he joked with her entirely too much, as if nothing had happened, even when they were alone and there was no one else to convince of their marital status. She raised her knees to her chest, not quite sure what to do or say next.

He glanced at her. "I'm sorry," he whispered, "I had no idea it was bothering you that much."

Once again, she thought she'd definitely overreacted. By looking at his sad puppy eyes, she could tell he was really sorry.

"I guess I'm the one who just wanted to play house. But I really am sorry that I upset you," he added.

The smallest hint of a smile appeared on her lips at the reference to what he'd said to her during her very first moments in this house. The odd thought that he wanted to play house had never even crossed her mind. This was just another case to her, she was here to work, not to indulge in some ridiculous suburban dream that never interested her anyway, in spite of what he might think.

But then again, now she could easily imagine him wanting to have some fun while at it.

"You wanted to play house," she repeated, just to double check she'd heard correctly.

He nodded. "Yes."

"With me," she continued, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, yes, who else?" he replied with a smirk. "You're my favourite person."

Or second favourite?, she couldn't help wondering, but immediately discarded the thought. She wasn't going to talk about this anyway. She cracked a smile.

"So we're good?" he asked.

She thought about it, and quickly decided that two could play his game. Maybe she could even gain something.

"Actually, no… there're a couple more things that bother me," she said casually, a finger playing with a strand of red hair.

"What's that?"

"Well, the toilet seat, for example."

He rolled his eyes. "Oh come on, why do you women get so upset about that? Look, dudes need it up, we pull it up. You need it down, you put it down. What's the big deal?"

"You're right, but I think you can do this small thing for your wife… and, you know, for the chance to sleep on the bed every night until the case is over."

He grinned at her words, at how she suddenly started playing along with him, even if it was just for personal profit. Definitely his favourite person. "Well, when you say it like that... Alright. Anything else that bothers you?"

"You could gently squeeze the tube of toothpaste starting from the top, instead of strangling it to death."

He nodded repeatedly. "Okay, good, what else?"

"You don't throw your clothes around, you fold them neatly and put them in the drawers."

"Consider it done. Something else?"

She thought about it for a second. "Nope, that's it. Do we have a deal?"

She stretched her hand out towards him, and he shook it. "Deal."

She lay back down on the bed, switching off the light and immediately closing her eyes as her head touched her pillow.

"We're good now?" he asked.

"Yes. Now let me sleep," she replied, without opening her eyes. They were as good as they could be, and hopefully the Diana thing would fade away by itself.

He gazed at her for a couple of seconds, at her relaxed features and her red hair spread on the pillow. She looked damn cute, but he knew she would snap his neck if he said it out loud. So, he only kept gazing, and hoping she wouldn't notice. She was so hard to resist, though.

She was too tired to realise she had his eyes on her, and she was drifting off to sleep already, when she felt him hovering over her, his warm breath on her face.

He placed a first, tender kiss in the middle of her cheek, and then a second right between her nose and her eye. He could still taste the peppermint mask she wore earlier that night.

"Good night Scully," he whispered, his nose still nuzzling her. Then, he lay down on his back and closed his eyes, enjoying the comfort of their bed and the awareness of her presence in there as well.

She'd felt those kisses. Of course she had. And somehow, although they were just kisses on the cheek, they had spread a nice kind of warmth in her stomach, and painted a smile on her face. Maybe she really was his favourite person, after all. He loved her, and she loved him, and sometimes too many things happened during the day, and she kind of forgot that. But in the night, when he kissed her goodnight, then it was easier to remember.

She scooted closer to him, and leaned her head on her wrist, tracing his peaceful features with her eyes. Then, she slowly leaned in, and pressed a kiss to his temple.

"Good night Mulder," she murmured.

He felt her lips moving against his skin in time with her voice, but he waited to open his eyes, too afraid to break the spell. Affectionate gestures between them were a sporadic thing, mainly saved for those situations in which one of them needed comfort.

Moments like this, where they kissed each other just because they felt like doing so, were even rarer, so rare he couldn't even recall one.

Once he opened his eyes and glanced at her, he saw her lying only a couple of inches from him, on the edge of her pillow, on her side, curled up in a foetal position, facing him. Her eyes were closed again. She was so close that the comforter didn't have enough room to touch the bed between them, and he could feel the heat of her body emanating from her.

He curled up on his side too, mirroring her position, his forehead and nose almost touching hers. Back pain was totally worth having if it meant having Scully so close.

They fell asleep like that.


	4. Post Milagro

_There are a lot of people who wrote post Milagro fics already, and today I join the group ;)_

 _This is my personal version of what could have happened. It's mainly hurt/comfort, obviously, but there's some romance too (sort of). I hope you enjoy it!_

 _Thanks to everyone who keeps reading this, I love you all! And special thanks to those of you who left a review, followed or favourited this story, you have no idea how happy that makes me :)_

* * *

 **IV. I Won't Say I'm in Love (Post Milagro)**

 _Wordcount: 3850 words_

Scully cried, and cried, and cried, holding onto him for dear life, her nails scratching his back almost violently. She cried, and he held her. It was the most uncomfortable position ever, but Mulder kept holding her in his arms, while her tears soaked his blue sweater, and he couldn't even think of letting her go.

Once again, he'd almost lost her. He'd entered his apartment, with his gun loaded and ready to fire, only to find her on his floor, apparently unconscious, her clothes soaked wet with her own blood. In that moment, at that sight, he thought he'd lost her, and his heart had wrenched at the mere idea. He'd walked closer to her, kneeled down next to her, and tried to check her pulse. She couldn't be dead, he couldn't imagine his life without her.

And then, out of the blue, she woke up with a strangled gasp, and reached for him with her arms, wrapping them around his neck. And she cried. And he held her. Each one of her loud sobs was like an arrow through his heart. He'd heard her cry before, but never like this, never with this amount of sorrow. He would have given everything to take her pain away, even if that meant to take it himself, but that wasn't possible, so he just held her, and rejoiced in the fact that once again he got lucky, and she was alive and in his arms. His muscles could cramp as much as they wished, he would never let her go.

Even some long minutes later, when the sobs ripping through her body started getting less and less violent, none of them wanted to let go.

"Are you hurt?" he asked timidly, one of his hands soothingly rubbing her back.

She didn't say anything, but judging by the pattern her chin drew on his shoulder, he supposed it was a negative answer. He sighed in relief.

Suddenly there was a noise coming from the outside, a siren. She immediately stiffened in his arms.

He kept rubbing her back, as to say that she didn't have to worry, he would be here with her. "Someone must have called the police."

But she didn't relax. Instead, she moved as to untangle herself from his embrace, and he realised she just didn't want to be caught in such a position.

Albeit unwillingly, he had to let her go.

"Scully, don't…"

"I'm fine Mulder," she said, while she slowly tried to get up on her feet. He helped her, grabbing her arms and lifting her up. The second she stood up, the room started spinning around her, and she fell against his chest again.

"Scully…"

"I'm okay, really, my blood pressure is just a bit low," she whispered, bringing a hand to her forehead.

"Let's sit down a bit," he said, and she nodded, and let him help her sitting down on the couch.

They heard steps approaching his apartment, and he watched her run a hand through her hair, trying to fix it, and do the same with her clothes. She didn't want to show how much this all had clearly affected her.

He remembered the times when she tried to look invincible to him too, and was honestly glad those times were over. She let him help her now, and comfort her, when she needed it, but that didn't mean the rest of the world had the same privileges. And he was happy of it. There was a sort of pride inside him, knowing he was the only one allowed to see certain sides of her.

As they expected, the police arrived, as well as the ambulance. Mulder explained the situation, while the paramedics spotted Scully still sitting on the couch, pale as a ghost and covered in blood. She didn't want to be checked out, though. She was a doctor, she knew there was nothing wrong with her, not physically at least. She'd just lost some blood, but a part from that, she was fine.

Mulder followed the police to the basement and they found Padgett's body. Then there were questions to be answered, and reports to be filed. The basement became a crime scene. Skinner was notified of the situation too.

By the time everyone left, it was almost dark outside.

Scully was still sitting in the same exact spot with a half empty glass of juice in her hands.

Mulder joined her.

"Where did you get the juice?" he asked.

"It was in your fridge. Sugars help with the recovery after blood loss."

He nodded. She looked slightly less pale than before, there was now a rosy shade back on her cheeks.

"Is he dead?" she asked, her voice cracking slightly at the end.

He immediately knew whom she was referring to. "Yes."

She took one last sip of her juice. "I'd like to go home."

He nodded again. "I'll drive you."

He expected her to tell him she could drive by herself, but instead she just whispered a soft "thank you." He realised she was much more shaken than she showed.

They drove to her apartment more or less in silence. She asked him about Padgett's death, how they found him, what the theories were, and he told her everything. He wasn't sure she was listening, though.

He parked the car in front of her building, but she hardly seemed to notice, although she'd been staring out of the window for a while now.

"Scully? We're here," he whispered.

She jumped slightly, as if she'd woken up from a dream. "Yes."

However, she didn't move.

"I can come upstairs and stay a little bit, if you're fine with it," he suggested. He knew she wanted him to stay with her, and he was too afraid her pride was keeping her from asking him. So he had to invite himself.

"Yeah, sounds good."

They walked to her apartment, his hand leaning on her back from time to time. He needed her to know that he was there with her, that she wasn't alone in this. He'd read what that monster had written about her, and he couldn't help wondering how much of that was actually true. Maybe she would feel like talking about it, later, or the following day.

One thing in particular stood out in his mind, Padgett's voice telling Scully she was already in love. Mulder couldn't help wondering what that meant, if it meant what he thought and hoped, or if there was something else. He might ask her, later, but now her safety and well-being were all that mattered.

She locked the door behind them once they got into her apartment.

"I think… I think I'll have a shower," was the first thing she said, her left hand touching the collar of her shirt. There was still blood on it, and everywhere else on her, but it was dry now. Which would only make it harder to remove. Maybe she should just burn her clothes, or throw them away, she thought.

He reached for her other hand, the one that was hanging loose against her side, and gave it a squeeze. "You sure you're not going to pass out in the shower?"

She shook her head. "I'll be fine."

He watched her as she disappeared into her bathroom, while he waited outside. The first thing he did was light up her fireplace, thinking that she probably would enjoy it later. Then he sat on her couch and began flipping through some newspapers he found in her kitchen, without giving any attention to them. Soon the sound of the shower reached his ears, and covered every other noise.

He was still there when ages later she showed up, wearing a violet satin pyjamas and a robe. She walked slowly to the fireplace, giving her back to him, and closed her eyes at the warmth emanated by the flames.

"You know what the worst thing is?" she murmured, without turning to face him.

He waited for her to continue, afraid of what was coming.

"This is all my fault," she stated, her eyes fixed on the crackling fire.

Her painful words were like a sword through his heart. "Scully, what are you talking about?"

"I let him hurt me. I allowed him to. He was a creep, he embodied everything a woman knows she has to watch out for, and still, I defended him, I trusted him," she started, as she felt tears pricking her eyes, "he followed me around, he wrote unimaginable things about me, and I was…"

She stopped as a tear broke the barrier of her eyelids and streamed down her cheek.

"I was flattered," she continued, her voice starting to break. "Instead of being creeped out, I felt flattered. I even agreed to drinking coffee with him, sitting in his bedroom, just… just because he noticed me and thought I was attractive…"

He could feel all her pain, all her disappointment, and it was hurting him too, more than he could say. She was never indulgent enough with herself.

"Scully," he called her softly, and his voice made her turn around. As her gaze met his, as it'd already happened in the past, tears began flowing freely, and she brought her hand to her mouth to muffle a sob, and then another.

His first instinct was to get up from the couch and reach for her, hold her in his arms and ease the pain away, but then he noticed she was already walking towards him, so he just spread his arms for her, in an invitation that she couldn't wait to accept.

He was surprised when she settled on his lap, her head nestled on the crook of his neck, but not surprised enough to prevent his arms from wrapping around her small figure and his lips from kissing her forehead. Amid all the pain, both hers and his own, he felt just a little happy that she wasn't just accepting his comfort, she was actively seeking it.

"It's okay," he whispered to her ear, again and again, trying to soothe her from a pain he thought she shouldn't inflict herself. "It's not your fault, you're the victim here. It's not your fault."

But inside her, she knew she was right. She risked her life because of her own stupid hormones. What kind of intelligent, grown-up woman would actually feel attracted to an unknown man who clearly admitted having followed her around for months, maybe longer? A man who openly told her he moved into a new apartment just to be closer to her? Of course it was going to end with her risking her life.

"I'm a medical doctor," she said after a while, once her tears had stopped and her breathing had gone back to normal. "I'm a medical doctor and an FBI trained agent, and I should have known better."

He didn't know how to react to her statements. He wanted to validate her feelings, without making her feel worse than she was already feeling, but he had no idea how. He just tightened his wrap around her.

"You know, all these years," she continued, her voice quivering again, "I thought I'd learned that I'm so much more than a beautiful woman, I never thought I cared whether men find me physically attractive or not… and yet."

He felt a sudden pang of guilt, because he always thought she was beautiful but never told her. Damn, she was the most gorgeous woman he'd ever met. He just never thought she'd care to hear his opinion on her physical appearance. He was starting to wonder if this had been a huge mistake.

"You're only human, Scully," he whispered, not quite understanding her need to separate different aspects of herself.

She sighed, while her fingers lazily traced circular patterns along his arms. She knew he wouldn't be able to understand her, she knew it perfectly well. He was probably never told that he was too hot for med school, or asked why a pretty boy like him would want to become an FBI agent. During his first weeks at the Bureau, he was never called 'sweetheart' by those people who were supposed to treat him like a peer.

She trained herself and the others, year after year, to see her as a colleague, as a professional, never as a woman. She always loved the respect and the power that came from it.

Then Padgett came out of nowhere, and he only saw the woman in her, and instead of alerting the police, she immediately turned into a schoolgirl with a secret admirer. The need to have someone look at her merely as a woman, as an object for lust and desire, was not something she thought belonged to her. It wasn't something she thought she wanted.

There were no words to describe how disappointed she was with herself. She was even ready to believe him instead of Mulder, her own Mulder, whom she loved and trusted with her whole life. The only man she could see herself with, if she were ever to decide loneliness wasn't her choice anymore. The only person who had the power to make her feel less lonely just with his presence.

She wondered briefly if he ever thought of her as a woman, not as a friend or a partner. She wondered how that would feel like. But then again, she wasn't sure she actually wanted to know. It was so good to just be Scully to him.

Maybe though, it would feel exactly the way she was feeling now, sitting on his lap, with his arms loosely wrapped around her, her face so close to his, breathing his scent. Everything was good, warm, safe. She couldn't repress a smile. He could always make her smile eventually.

She sat up so that her face was now at his level, her arms wrapped around his neck. His eyes met hers, and he couldn't help smirking too at the sight of her smile. There was so much love lingering in the air that they could feel it under their skin.

"Thank you," she whispered. Then she leaned her head on his shoulder again, feeling just a little better than before.

She couldn't say how long they remained like that, just enjoying each other's company and silence, that silence that was always source of awkwardness before they met each other. She guessed it was a while, since the fire had died out, but she couldn't quite quantify the minutes, or hours.

They had some dinner, later on, or he ordered Chinese takeout, and she just drank a cup of tea. She could still feel those hands inside of her, although there was no wound to prove it, and she felt sick just thinking about food.

"I think I'm going to bed," she said once he was done with his food.

He nodded and followed her to her bedroom. He just wanted to make sure she was safe in her bed before heading home.

He watched her as she removed her robe. There was a sort of hidden pleasure in watching her undress, although underneath she was anything but naked. He walked closer to her until they were just a few inches apart.

"You're beautiful," he whispered.

He couldn't tell if it was just his imagination, or the dim light of the room, but he could swear he saw her eyes tear up, and her cheeks colour with a delightful shade of red.

"You're the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on, Scully," he added softly, taking her hands in his.

It was the first compliment of its kind he'd ever paid her, and it made her heart skip a beat. Right now, oddly enough, it was just what she needed, to please the woman hidden inside of her. A single tear streamed down her cheek, and he promptly kissed it away.

"I'll just get going now," he announced next, but she had no intentions of letting him leave this house.

"No, stay," she whispered, not a single hint of hesitation in her voice. She'd been through a lot that day, she deserved to enjoy the forbidden pleasure of having his body against hers, like she did earlier on her couch, to relish his warmth and affection.

"I'll… get the couch?" he said, pointing with his thumb towards the door, just to make sure she knew they didn't have to share the bed if she didn't want to.

"I meant here."

With those words, she glanced at the empty bed next to her. She couldn't remember the last time someone else had slept in there. She was starting to wonder if it ever happened, at all.

"I have nothing to sleep in," he pointed out, although it wasn't by any means a way to decline her offer.

"Sleep how you're most comfortable. I don't care."

And she meant it. She just wanted him close.

He nodded. "Let me just use the bathroom one second."

He felt a little embarrassment as he stepped out of the bathroom, a few minutes later, wearing only his white t-shirt and boxer briefs, but everything else, after that, happened so naturally that one would believe it was nothing but routine. The way they settled in her bed and met each other in the middle of it, the way her head immediately found its spot on his chest, and his arms wrapped around her, the way she sighed in content in hearing his steady heartbeat under her ear. Perfect, she thought, everything was just perfect.

He could sense that she was already falling asleep, she was exhausted after all, but there was one thing he needed to ask her, that otherwise would bug him until morning, and he wasn't sure she would want to answer him in the morning. He just had to know.

"Scully?"

"Mhm?"

"That thing… the thing Padgett said. Is it true?"

She opened her eyes and looked up at him, without really moving from her position. "He said a lot of things."

"He said you're in love."

That was when she heard the hammering of a heart, and she wasn't sure whether it was his or her own. She could either tell him the truth or lie, and he deserved nothing but the truth.

"Yes," she replied softly, "it's true."

A moment of silence followed, in which both of them wondered where this conversation was leading them.

"What does it mean?" he asked.

There it was. She had her occasion to profess her love to him, to expose herself, to take a chance. However, there was something inside her that stopped her. Maybe she wasn't ready, after all, for such a big step. Maybe loneliness was still her choice. Maybe she just wanted to spend the night in his arms. Maybe it was her rational mind, that she was so proud of, reminding her that important decisions shouldn't be taken while subjected to strong emotions.

"I don't know," she replied eventually, lifting her head to look at him while they talked, "does it have to mean something?"

He smiled because in her uncertain words and her blue eyes he found the only confirmation he'd been awaiting all along. He himself was the lucky bastard who stole Dana Scully's heart, she just wasn't ready to say it out loud yet, and he was fine with it. He loved her, and he would wait for her until the end of time if necessary.

"No. Not now," he whispered, a smile still curling his lips.

She smiled too because in his careful reply and tentative smile she found the confirmation that he knew about her feelings, and felt he same. He knew she loved him. He loved her back. It felt better than she expected.

One day things would eventually evolve between them, but for now she just snuggled with him again, and he kissed the top of her head, as to seal their unspoken promise.

She was the first one to fall asleep, while he stayed awake much longer, with a heart full of love, just thinking and randomly glancing at her, grinning at the way her limbs twitched and at the way her mouth hung slightly open.

Eventually, slumber took over him as well.

The morning after, he woke up quite early, and immediately realised that her side of the bed was empty and cold. There was, however, a nice smell of coffee in the air. He wore his pants and went to the kitchen, where he found her sitting at the table, eating breakfast and glancing through a newspaper.

"Morning," she greeted him.

"Scully? What are you doing?" he asked, his eyes slowly adjusting to the light.

She was wearing one of her pantsuits, and heels, and her makeup was flawless. She was clearly ready to go to work.

"I'm having breakfast. Want some coffee?"

"Isn't it a bit early? And shouldn't you be taking a day off anyway?" he said, completely ignoring her offer.

"I need to work on my report, since I didn't get much done yesterday. And no, I don't need a day off, I'm okay," she replied, taking a sip from her mug.

"Oh, alright… I'll go home then, have a shower… see you later at the office?"

She looked up from the newspaper and nodded. "Thanks for staying tonight, by the way."

He smiled at her, trying to resist the temptation to close the distance between them and hug her. "Anytime."

He collected his stuff and headed towards the door, when suddenly he decided there was one more thing he needed to say. He walked back to the kitchen.

"Scully?"

She looked up again from the newspaper and waited for him to speak.

"You really are beautiful."

For a second, he thought something flashed across her face, something in her eyes he couldn't quite catch. The next second, his Scully was back, crooking an eyebrow before looking back at the newspaper.

"Thank you Mulder, but if you really want to appease me, I'd rather your compliment be about my brain, not my physical appearance."

He grinned. He had never loved anyone this much, and at this point, he realised it would never happen again. He would never find another woman as outstanding as she was.

He took a seat on the empty chair next to her, and she turned her attention to him again.

"Okay, what about this…" he started, and he theatrically cleared his throat. "You're an amazing Special Agent with an extraordinary scientific mind."

She smirked. "Better."

He stood up, pleased with himself, his eyes sparkling with adoration for her. "See you later, Scully."

He grabbed her mug and took a large sip of coffee out of it, leaving it almost empty, before heading towards the door.

"Mulder!" she exclaimed in playful annoyance. "That was my coffee!"

By the time she finished the sentence, he had already left. She shook her head to herself, an amused grin still shining on her face, and turned the newspaper page.


	5. Post Orison

_Here I am again with my version of what happens after the end of Orison! It's a little longer than the others, I just got carried away. I hope you won't mind! Again, it's h/c mainly, romance, and some UST, but not much._

 _Well enjoy :) and thanks for reading!_

* * *

 **V. Where Does The Good Go (Post Orison)**

 _Wordcount: 5258 words_

Mulder wanted to help her pack her stuff, but Scully assured him she could do it herself. She had to take a deep breath before opening her closet, the one Pfaster had closed her in, but eventually she managed to gather everything she needed. Going into the bathroom to pick up some toiletries was even harder. Everything was how he had set it up for her, the bubbly water in the tub, the candles all over, to create atmosphere, she supposed. She shuddered in disgust at the images created by her own mind.

Mulder asked her if she preferred to stay at her mum's, or get a motel room, instead of staying at his place, but once again she told him his place was indeed the best option. Plus, it would only be for a few days, until her place would no longer be considered a crime scene.

At first, they decided that they'd drive to his place in separate cars, each with their own, so that they would be completely independent, although they lived together. It made the most sense, really. But then it was so late that night that everyone decided to resume the investigations the following morning, with the help of the sunlight, so she decided she could have him drive her to his place and then back the following morning.

They did so, mostly in silence, sometimes exchanging some random talk. It was past 3 am when they finally reached his apartment.

He was a little nervous at the idea of having her over, but tried not to let it show too much. If he'd known she was coming, he would have tied up a bit, cleaned up. Changed the bed sheets. Bought some real food.

He walked with her to his bedroom and dropped her bag to the floor.

"Make yourself at home," he said.

She was standing there next to him, her arms wrapped around herself, and she gave him a tiny smile. "Thank you."

"You can… put your stuff in here," he added, walking to his chest of drawers and trying to make some space for her. Gosh, he had so much stuff he never used, he should really clean up one of these days. "I'll make more room for you if you want."

"Mulder, it's okay, it'll be just a few days, I can keep my stuff in the bag," she pointed out, and sat down on the bed. He sat next to her.

"Are you tired?" he asked. It seemed a legitimate question, judging by the time.

Much to his surprise, she shook her head. "It may sound weird, but if it gets too late past my bedtime, the sleepiness just slips away. That, and the near-death experience I just went through, you know."

He chuckled, more of nervousness than actual amusement. A part of him wanted to ask her what she wanted to do then, but he immediately realised how bad that sounded. They were sitting on his bed, a bed that they were probably going to share at some point, although he didn't want to get his hopes up. It was just a bit strange. Thankfully, she spoke next.

"I'll take a shower, if you don't mind."

"You can also take a bath if you want," he suggested, but she immediately shot him a look that made him regret it. Right. She'd almost fallen victim of a crazy guy who liked to draw a bath for his prey, of course she didn't want to have a bath.

"Shower's good," she said.

"I'll change the bed sheets in the meantime."

She raised an eyebrow. "Are they so dirty?"

"I guess they could be cleaner."

She just raised her hands in surrender. "Alright."

As she started collecting her stuff to take into the bathroom, he left her alone in the room, and went back only after he stared hearing the sound of the shower, thanking his past self for actually washing the only other set of sheets he owned. They were simple brown cotton sheets. They would do. Then, he left the room again. He wanted to give her as much privacy as possible. He could only imagine how hard this was going to be for her, being a guest at someone else's house, even if it was his house. He knew she was very independent, and cherished her freedom, and he wanted to give her as much of that as being flatmates allowed.

It was honestly going to be tough on him too, having her around, knowing she was in his bed, or in his shower, coming home to her, or being home when she arrived.

He quickly changed into his pyjamas too and turned on the TV, randomly switching channels only to find an ample selection of horror and porn movies. It was the middle of the night after all. He was lost in his thoughts, mentally making a list of all the reasons why he really shouldn't be watching porn right now, when her voice coming from his bedroom interrupted him.

"Mulder? Can you come here for a moment?"

He muted the TV, then he stood up and walked to his bedroom, and he found her kneeled down next to the bag with her clothes, wearing only pyjama pants and a black cotton bra. He tried to not focus too much on the fact that she was half naked, and reminded himself he'd already seen her in underwear before, but in this precise position he could see the curves of her breasts jiggling while she searched something in her bag. It was a sight that went straight to his groin. He shoved his hands in his pockets to disguise the hint of erection that threatened to appear any second now, and looked away before it was too late.

"Did you need something?" he asked.

"Uhm, yes," she replied as she slowly stood up, "I forgot to pack my socks. Could I borrow a pair, just for tonight? I'll get mine in the morning."

He noticed she was barefoot.

"Are your feet cold?" he asked, now trying to keep his eyes on her face. He had no idea what was wrong with him tonight, but he had to fight unusually hard not to glance down at her body.

He didn't know if she'd noticed his internal struggle or if she was just feeling cold, but she suddenly crossed her arms to her chest. "A little."

He opened one of his drawers and handed her a pair of his grey cotton socks. "I doubt they're your size."

"They'll do for tonight. Thanks."

He barely had the time to sigh in relief at the fact that the whole situation was over and he could now go back to a room where Scully wasn't only wearing a bra, when she turned around to walk to his bed, and his jaw dropped in shock.

Her back.

The ivory skin of her back was covered in scratches and bruises, that were now red but that would probably be a painful shade of purple by morning, some of them visibly swollen.

"What did he do to you?" he asked, his voice quivering. He was aghast.

She was sitting on the side of the bed, one heel right on the edge to pull his oversized sock over her foot, and she stopped to look at him. "What do you mean?"

"Y-your back… it's…" he couldn't even finish the sentence. He sat next to her, while she wore the other sock. "…Bruised," he concluded, recognising immediately that the word he chose was an understatement. Judging by the sad smirk that appeared on her lips, she recognised that too.

"He slammed me against the wall, and the mirror. Repeatedly," she whispered, looking down at her hands on her lap.

He felt an immediate surge of anger, and thought that he would have killed Pfaster with his own bare hands if she hadn't done it already. How dared anyone hurt his Scully like that.

Mulder took a deep breath and tried to push the rage away, he didn't want to spend one more second thinking about him. He needed to focus on Scully now.

"Does it hurt?"

"Yes… but my head hurts more… here," she said, bringing one hand to the back of her head. With a finger she circled an area there, to show him the exact source of her pain. She'd hit her head over and over again that night. "But I have no symptoms of concussion, so I'll be okay."

"Why didn't you say anything?" he asked, having a hard time believing that she was in so much pain and just forgot to mention it.

"There's nothing you can do anyway. I took some pain killers after the shower, they'll kick in soon," she tried to reassure him.

"I can give you a massage," he proposed instinctively.

She raised an eyebrow, implicitly questioning his idea.

"At least it'll help you relax," he added.

She decided to give it a shot, for sure it couldn't make things worse. "Suit yourself."

At that point, he suddenly acknowledged what this all entailed. He was going to give her a massage. He was going to touch her skin, her bare skin. Maybe he should have thought more carefully before putting himself in this situation.

Now however it was too late. "Do you want to lie down, or…?"

"You can sit behind me."

And he did. He positioned himself so that she was sitting between his legs, with only a few inches between their bodies. He placed his hands on top of her shoulders, feeling the silkiness of her skin.

"Let's go then," he said, and started moving his hands on her. She immediately whimpered in pain, and instinctively arched her body away to free herself from his grasp.

He lifted his hands off her shoulders. She was sore, of course this would hurt. "I'm sorry Scully, I-I…"

"No, it's… it's okay. Try again. Maybe not so rough this time?"

He obeyed and repeated the same movement as before, just with less pressure, but she still winced. This time though, he didn't surrender, he just kept going, gradually decreasing the amount of strength he was using, until he felt her muscles relaxing completely.

However, by the time it happened, he wasn't giving her a massage anymore, his hands were barely brushing her skin in soft grazes.

"Is this good?" he asked, while he tentatively rubbed her upper back in slow circles. She nodded, and he smiled to himself.

Careful not to hurt her, he let his palms travel along her back, across her bra hook, down to the edge of her pants, painting an imaginary drawing, using her skin as a canvas. She bended over and rested her elbows on her knees, and her chin on her hands, to give him more space to move.

She liked this, whatever _this_ was. She liked the warmth of his hands on her. It wasn't really easing the pain, but it was distracting her from it, which worked as well.

Suddenly, he changed his technique. Instead of using his whole hand, he began caressing her back using just his fingertips and the smooth edge of his nails.

Her eyes fell shut, and she hummed in content at the new sensations. With every stroke, with every circle that his pads drew on her, a shiver ran up and down her spine like a wave, crashing against her nape. His fingers kept dancing on her skin, like those of a musician on his harp, covering every inch they could reach, and soon she couldn't distinguish a wave from the other. If it wasn't for the sharp pain hammering in her head, this would have probably been arousing in a whole other way.

At some point he hooked two fingers under her bra straps. "Can I?"

She nodded. He just wanted to gently pull her straps down her shoulders, to have more freedom, but she was quicker, and did something he wasn't expecting. She reached with her own hands behind her back, and in a smooth movement undid her bra, letting it fall down her arms, holding the cups against her chest with her left arm, while the right hand still supported her head.

He gulped, and hoped she didn't hear him. This small gesture was a lot to handle. Her back was now completely bare right under his eyes. She'd undone her bra right in front of him, and her skin was covered in goosebumps from his earlier touch. He swallowed hard feeling a familiar tingling in his groin.

She wondered why she felt him shift back on the bed, leaving even more space between them, but then his hands resumed their touch, and she just stopped thinking, focusing instead on enjoying the attentions he was giving her. The patterns he drew with the tips of his fingers kept giving her shivers, one after the other. He traced her spine and grazed her hips, leaving a trail of goosebumps wherever he touched.

She couldn't help gasping softly as his nails found another sweet spot, right above her shoulder blades, where her bra straps usually lay.

He squeezed his eyes shut at the sound, and forced himself to stay focused on the task, but it was getting more and more difficult with the huge erection tenting in his sweatpants taking all the blood away from his brain. He couldn't help imagining his hands doing much more to her than just caressing her with his pads. He would sneak his hands around her waist, pressing her back against him, letting her feel how much he wanted her. He would kiss her neck starting from the point where her pulse was stronger, licking and nibbling all the way up to her ear. She would drop her head back against his shoulder, whimpering in pleasure and bringing her arms behind his head, to press his voracious mouth harder against her neck and at the same time to leave him more space to roam his hands on her chest. He would cup her breasts, massaging them and feeling their weight on his palms, he would pinch her hard nipples, tug them and roll them between his fingers until she squirmed in pleasure and begged him for more. Then he'd…

"Thank you."

Her soft voice brought him back to reality, and he was relieved to realise that although his mind had gone elsewhere, his hands didn't actually follow.

"What?" he asked, still heated by his own fantasy. His erection was even harder than before.

"I mean, thanks for what you're doing. It feels really nice… and it's helping with the pain," she explained.

A sense of guilt and betrayal hit him like a punch in the face at hearing her words. She was in pain, and she was relying on him for comfort, and relaxation, and all he could do was think with the head of his penis. _Shame on you, Fox Mulder._

He collected all the strength he had and tried to push away his own desire for her, taking control over his body again. The first thing he did was choose a less erotic location to direct his attentions, although everything about her was somewhat erotic to him. Using his knuckles, he traced the sides of her neck and landed in her hair, right where she'd told him earlier that the source of her pain was.

"Is this good too?" he asked, as he gently stroked her red strands, still a bit damp from the shower.

"Very good."

He grinned as he heard her relaxed voice, and he tried to focus on that, on the awareness that what he was doing was helping her feel better. His fingers kept working on her hair, softly massaging her scalp with circular movements and scratching lightly with his pads.

She was in a state of pure bliss, and she was regretting having chosen not to lie down. She couldn't believe he was making her feel this good just with his fingers, there had to be a trick, he couldn't have turned her in a bundle of nerves with only a bunch of caresses on her hair and back, of all places.

She licked her lips as the fingertip of his index fingers reached her forehead, and traced the contour of her face, grazing the soft skin behind her ears, following her jawline, then climbing her nose and circling her eyes, before going back to her head. She let herself melt under his touch.

"I like this hidden talent of yours, Mulder," she commented, sounding more out of breath than she would have wished.

He chuckled. He had actually never done this before, for anyone. The only way he'd touched women before was the good old fashioned sexual way. This was new to him, but he was glad she was enjoying.

He was also managing to bring his body's temperature back to a normal level, eventually using the only technique that could truly work in this situation. He thought of how, once again, he got this close to losing her forever.

While his hands left her head and returned to her back, he circled her bruises, and reminded himself that she'd had a fight that night, a fight that she'd won, but that could have ended differently. A man twice her size had hit her, slammed her against the wall, it could have resulted in broken bones, head trauma, or worse. He could have killed her before she could manage to free herself. It was all luck that she survived.

Luck and her incredible strength, he corrected himself with a smile. She'd fought back. She'd kicked the guy's ass. She'd freed herself without any kind of help. He still couldn't understand how such a tiny body could contain such a massive amount of badass.

He leaned forward and kissed the tender spot behind her head.

"You were so brave tonight," he whispered against her hair, while his fingers traced new patterns on her shoulders and he smelled for the first time that night the peppermint scent of her shampoo. She'd been using peppermint-scented products since he first met her, but for some reason she seemed to prefer them lately. Peppermint was now one of his favourite scents, because it reminded him of her.

Scully scoffed. "Yeah, brave."

The mocking tone she used concerned him a little. "I mean seriously, you defeated a serial killer who was also twice your size. It's a brave thing to do."

"I'm not brave, Mulder. I killed a man tonight. I'm a murderer."

His hands froze on her upper arms as her words sank down on him, and a thick silence fell between them.

"It was self-defence," was all he could mumble after a few seconds, his voice shakier than he'd wished.

"Was it Mulder?" she questioned, "I wasn't in immediate danger when I shot him. I could have shot his leg, or his shoulder, to prevent him from hurting me or from running away. Was it really self-defence?"

He stuttered some disconnected vowels, because he had no idea how to react to her statement. Officially, he would openly claim that her shots were a reaction for self-defence, he would repeat that over and over again, in every circumstance where it was necessary. But right now, being just her and himself, that question made his belief shake.

Not being able to provide an answer, he just closed the gap between their bodies and enveloped her in his arms, one across her shoulder and one across her waist, pulling her back against his chest.

"Thank you. I was getting cold," she whispered.

Silence fell again, and she closed her eyes leaning back against his chest.

"How's the pain?" he asked softly after a few seconds.

"It's getting manageable."

He smiled and pressed a kiss on her temple. He knew it was mostly due to the pain killers kicking in, but he couldn't help feeling as if he'd contributed to her well-being a little.

With the hand that wasn't holding up her bra, she reached up to touch his hand on her shoulder, tracing small circles on it with her thumb.

"I'm fine, you know," she said.

"Are you?"

"I mean… I don't feel guilty, for what I did. He was evil, he did unspeakable things to innocent women. I don't regret what I did. But please, don't say I was brave."

"Sorry," he whispered, and kissed her temple again. He still thought she was brave, though.

She thought the fact that she didn't feel guilty was scaring her a little, and that she might need to speak to Jesus before the night was over.

He held her in silence for a couple more minutes, until a rumble coming from her stomach interrupted the moment, making her glance down at her own body.

"Well, I guess I'm hungry," she stated.

"I think I might have something in the fridge," he said.

She turned around, as much as she could while restrained by his arms, sincerely surprised by his statement. "You? Owning edible food?"

"I feed myself too, you know," he replied in a challenging tone.

"Alright, let's see what you got."

He removed his arms from her body and quickly fastened her bra, before getting up from the bed. A rush of cold air hit her bare back, and she immediately missed the warmth of his chest against her.

"Get dressed while I use the bathroom," he suggested, handing her her pyjama top.

A few minutes later, they were in the kitchen, Scully sceptically standing behind him as he wishfully opened the fridge.

"Let's see… Oh, leftover pizza!" he cheerfully announced, pulling out a pizza box and opening it right under her nose.

She looked down at the slice, and then up to his eyes again. "This looks more like an X-file than a pizza, Mulder."

He glanced down at it as well, and noticed there was now some mould where the pepperoni used to be. He couldn't really remember how long it had been in there for, but he would have sworn it was just a couple of days.

"I can… cut off the green parts for you?" he offered, and she shot him one of her looks, the one with the tilted chin and the raised eyebrows. He threw both the pizza and its box in the trash.

"It's okay, I'll eat something at home in the morning," she said.

"No need to… I have something else."

She watched him as he opened his cupboard and retrieved a small brown paper sack.

"It's my secret stash," he said, opening the sack in front of her. It was full of sunflower seeds.

She shrugged. "Will do."

They sat next to each other on his couch. The TV was still on mute, probably on a horror movie, and he unmuted it, leaving it at the lowest volume.

He started retrieving a few seeds with his hand, and soon the noise of crunching filled the room. She took one as well, but it took her a few seconds to open it with her teeth and tongue. He must have had a really skilled tongue, she thought, to be able to eat so many seeds in such a short time. In the time she ate one, he had at least four.

Now that the pain in her head was milder, she couldn't help wondering what else he could do with that tongue, what it would feel like on certain parts of her body, but quickly discharged the thought. It was definitely not the moment to think about oral practices of sexual nature.

"I don't like horror movies, switch the channel," she prompted instead, changing topic in her mind.

He was going to tell her that the only two options were horrors and porn movies, but when he actually switched the channel, what looked like an episode of Friends appeared on the screen.

"Friends? At this time of the night?" he asked incredulous, while crunching some more seeds.

"You mean this time of the morning," she corrected, nodding at the green light on the VCR displaying the time. It was past 5 am.

"Sometimes I wake up around this time, to do some work or go for a run," she added, finally managing to eat her second seed, savouring the salty taste on her tongue.

He still couldn't believe it was so late. In less than three hours they were supposed to be back at her place for the investigation. He was starting to get sleepy, and he would bet it was the same for her, judging by her yawns getting more and more frequent. However, they sat together through the whole episode, eating sunflower seeds, with their legs on the coffee table. He couldn't help smiling at the cute sight of her tiny feet enveloped in his much bigger socks.

"Do you think Monica and Chandler will ever get married?" she asked at some point.

"Of course they will," he replied without a hint of doubt, "you don't think so?"

"I don't know… I mean, they had a lot of opportunities to propose, and everything is pointing in that direction, but, you know… it just looks like they're happy the way they are."

He pondered on her words for a few seconds, and glanced down at her, only to find her looking back.

"I just think they're not ready yet," he said eventually, his eyes never leaving hers, "they'll get there one day, on their own time... but that doesn't mean they're not happy right now."

Her lips curled into a tiny smile, and she leaned her head on his shoulder, grabbing a couple more seeds. She was getting better at cracking them open.

As the episode came to an end, he turned off the TV and put the brown sack with the seeds on the coffee table, next to the pile of cracked shells.

Not many words were spoken after that. They walked to his bedroom. He waited nervously for the moment in which she would glance at him and tell him that he could have the couch, but luckily that moment never came. His heart swelled at the idea that she didn't seem to mind sleeping next to him.

They settled under the comforter, and he looked at her to check how she wanted to do this exactly, how much space she wanted to keep between them, or better, if she had any intention of snuggling with him, because he would definitely love that, to spend the night cuddled up with her. However, she was sitting up with her back against the headboard, her knees to her chest, her eyes looking down.

"Something wrong?" he asked with a hint of concern in his voice.

Her eyes met his. "Do you mind if I pray?"

She rarely prayed. She used to do that every night as a child, she would pray with her siblings in the kitchen before going to sleep. But lately her prayers were very rare, reserved for those nights where she terribly needed to feel God close to her. This was one of those nights.

"Do you want me to give you some privacy?" he asked.

"It's okay, you can stay," she whispered. Then, she leaned her head back against the headboard and closed her eyes, while her right hand grabbed the golden cross at the end of her necklace.

He watched her. She wasn't speaking out loud, she wasn't even moving her lips, but he could tell she was reliving the events of the night once again. He felt out of place, as if he was witnessing a very private moment. Sometimes it was so easy to forget that she was a woman of faith as much as she was a woman of science.

Then suddenly, he noticed the edge of her eyes was getting moist, a clear sign that she was crying, or on the verge of. In any other occasion, her tears would wake his protectiveness towards her, and he would reach for her and hold her and ask what was wrong, but this was different. This was something between her and herself only.

He decided to go to the bathroom, although he didn't need to, just to give her all the space she needed.

When he got back, a couple of minutes later, she was on her back, splayed across his bed, her eyes fixed on the ceiling. He set the alarm, crawled next to her again, on his side, leaning his head on his hand.

"We have a full hour and 23 minutes of sleep if we fall asleep in this exact second," he said.

She rolled on her side too, facing him, and gave him a tiny smile without saying anything.

"Everything okay?" he asked.

She just nodded. "I think so."

Then she shifted closer to him, yearning for the intimacy of his body next to hers.

He didn't quite know what to read in her gaze, her blue eyes staring right into his hazel ones with the fondest look he'd seen in a long time. He wrapped his arms around her, completely closing the distance between their bodies, as she cupped his face with her hands, and slowly met his lips with hers in a soft kiss. They'd kissed once already, on New Year's Eve. He'd kissed her, and then admitted the world hadn't ended, and they knew he wasn't only talking about planet Earth. He was talking about his own world. He'd kissed her, finally, after years, and the world didn't end. She'd agreed with him. They could be happy together, and the world wouldn't end.

Now, her mouth lingered on his, her thumb stroking his cheek, as they savoured each other's taste, salty sunflower seeds and endless love. Their legs entangled together on their own will and her arms too wrapped around his frame, while he didn't dare move his hands on her back, too afraid to involuntarily hurt her, or break the spell.

Neither of them tried to deepen the kiss that night. It was just lips on lips, soul on soul. When they parted, she opened her eyes and let herself drown again in his hazel oceans.

"Good night," she murmured, as she snuggled more into him.

"Good night Scully."

He kissed her forehead one last time.

When his alarm went off, roughly one hour later, they both felt like a truck had run over them. His arm was numb from her weight, and she could say the same of her leg, trapped between his two. Plus, she'd drooled on the pillow. They laughed about it.

They spent two days living together. He realised there was something incredibly intimate and so very heart-warming in watching TV while she worked on her laptop in the evening, or in the way his bathroom smelled like peppermint after her shower. His favourite moment was the morning, when although they fell asleep each on their side of the bed the night before, they would wake up cuddled up together in the middle of it.

He could almost say he was happy.

On the third day, as he watched her disappear into the elevator with her bag in her hand, ready to go back to her apartment, he realised he would wait for her for as long as she needed, but he also hoped she would be soon ready to take the next step in their relationship, because he definitely was.


	6. Mid Sein und Zeit

_Sooo this is set after/during the scene where Scully comforts Mulder after his mother died, and ends before Skinner visits them in the morning. Lots of h/c and lots of angst._

 _Enjoy, and once again, thanks to all of you for your support :)_

* * *

 **VI. Moon River (Mid Sein und Zeit)**

 _Wordcount: 4113 words_

That day, Mulder had lost the last living member of his family, the last real connection to his past.

Scully had lost family members too. She'd lost her dad, and her sister, they'd left huge holes in her heart that would never be filled again, but she had her brothers, and most of all she had her mum. They rarely talked to each other, but Scully knew that whenever she might need comfort, or help, or a kind word, her mother would be there for her, no matter what.

But Mulder, he'd just lost that too. She could only begin to understand how deep his pain could be.

She kissed his head, whispered soothing words to his ears, rocked him back and forth, again and again.

Then he stiffened, and his crying came to a sudden stop.

"What if it's all a lie?" he asked, his puffy red-rimmed eyes finding hers, his voice still quivering from the emotion.

"What? What do you mean?"

He stood up abruptly and started pacing up and down the room, while she looked at him with apprehension, not daring to imagine what dangerous thought was visiting his mind.

"What if… what if the medical records are fake," he started, his breaths heavy and his pace anxious, "what if it's all fake, what if they killed her and created fake records for you to find, what-"

"Mulder."

"No Scully, listen here, what if this was all staged to keep us from finding the tru-"

"Mulder!" she repeated, this time with a more assertive voice that put a stop to his rambling. She approached him and took one of his hands between hers. "There's no conspiracy. She just didn't want to live."

"Stop saying that!" he barked, walking away from her. The restless pacing resumed, and more rambling followed.

She stood silently, in the middle of the room, following him with her eyes, back and forth, not quite sure of what to do, and at the same time wanting him to realise how absurd his new theory was, and that it would eventually end up hurting him even more.

He noticed, at some point between the aliens and the government, that she wasn't really listening to him anymore, he noticed her worried gaze, the way she bit her lower lip like when she was concerned for something.

"Come on, say something!" he prompted her, but all she did was approach him and delicately cup his face with her hands.

"She wanted to go," she said softly, "she-"

"But-"

"She wanted to go, Mulder. Your mother wanted to go. You need to let her go," she whispered, as her thumbs stroked his cheekbones. His first reaction was to look away from her, from her painfully true words and her inquisitive eyes, trying to find something to hold on to, another theory, anything.

But then she called his name, "Fox," she said, and he saw her eyes again, and realised that she was right.

"Let her go, Fox. Let your mum go," she said again, and he didn't know whether it was the fact that she used his name, or the whole situation, but in a matter of seconds his eyes were tearing up again, and he crashed his head on her shoulder.

"I don't know how to," he whispered against her, his voice faint and broken, like that of a young child, and she wrapped her arms around him.

She led him to the couch, let him lay down, and then laid next to him and hugged him again, his loud sobs ripping through her own body as well. She wished, for probably the first time in her life, that she was bigger, taller, so that she could fully envelop his body and make him feel as good and safe and comfortable as he'd made her feel uncountable times over the years. His tears soaked the black jacket she was still wearing, while her arms rubbed his back in wide soothing circles.

Then something happened.

He started kissing her neck, tenderly at first, with little closed-mouth kisses, then more and more passionately as the seconds went by, his tongue grazing at her sensitive skin. She stiffened, and instinctively tried to squirm out of his embrace.

"M-Mulder what are you doing?" she asked, her hands reaching his biceps to push him away.

"Please Scully," he whispered, as he kept trailing kisses on her neck and jawline, until he reached her mouth. She squeezed her eyes shut at the first lick of his tongue against her sealed lips.

She wanted him. She had for a long time, but not now and not like this, not with him still crying. He clearly wasn't in the right state of mind to decide he wasn't going to regret this later.

"Please… please, just this once…" he kept repeating between kisses, moving away from her mouth and down her throat, his tears wetting her skin, his hands roaming her body.

She felt her own tears well up in her eyes. Her body was predictably starting to react to his touch, arousing parts of her whose existence she'd forgotten, but her rational side kept repeating her, as a voice in her head, that she couldn't give in. She had to react, she had to stop him. This wasn't him, it was his pain acting for him, and she couldn't take advantage of that.

"Please, please," he kept repeating, his lips now nibbling her earlobe, while his hand had found one of her breast and was squeezing it roughly above the clothes.

She stared at the ceiling, motionless under his touch, wondering if she could do this for him, if she could give him the kind of comfort he craved, a comfort that went beyond words and hugs. Maybe he really wanted this, maybe there was nothing wrong, maybe he really wanted her as much as she wanted him. A new kind of heat was starting to pool in her lower belly, and the rational voice in her head grew fainter and fainter, her brain too busy enjoying his warm mouth tormenting her sensitive ear.

She was going to give in to him and her own emotions, when she noticed he was thrusting his hips against her leg, and immediately she was brought back to reality. She could feel nothing hard but the button of his jeans. That was what made her decide that she definitely had to stop him. He was barely hard, and he probably hadn't even realised it.

His mind was so far away that it wasn't even connected to his body anymore.

"Mulder," she whispered calmly, her hands back at his shoulders.

"Please Scully, I need this" he said, his mouth back at assaulting her neck while his hands worked on the buttons of her shirt.

She pushed more firmly against his shoulders as his hand reached her bare stomach.

"Mulder please, stop, you have to stop," she said, her voice much firmer than she would have thought.

He looked up at her with an unexpected anger in his eyes, and jumped up from the couch, leaving her startled.

"Dammit Scully, dammit!" he barked pointing a finger at her, as she propped herself up on her elbows trying to conceal the shock in her eyes, "I asked you for this one thing! Why couldn't you give it to me?! What's wrong with you?!"

Then, he walked to his room and slammed the door loudly behind him.

She sat up on his couch, staring absently at the void in front of her, her mind replaying what just happened. She did the right thing, didn't she? He wasn't aroused himself, he wasn't in the right state of mind to decide he wanted to have sex with her.

Or maybe he really wanted to have sex, and he just wasn't hard because she wasn't participating, she was lying there like a dead fish.

 _What's wrong with you, Dana?_

She stayed there, on that couch, her mind floating and switching thoughts, one moment blaming herself for disappointing her best friend and not giving him what he wanted, the next moment reminding herself that she did the right thing, she stopped him when he wasn't in the right state of mind to stop himself.

Eventually, she just wondered whether she should stay or leave, whether he would appreciate finding her still in his living room once he decided to come back.

She chose to stay. No matter what just happened, she could never leave him in such a moment. She removed her black jacket and laid her back against the couch.

In the meantime, he'd locked himself in the bathroom, tears once again pricking his eyes. He needed a distraction, he needed something to take him away from the shitty reality he was living in, even for a few minutes, and nothing better than some orgasm-induced endorphins.

He opened his jeans and lowered his boxer briefs, shocked to find out that he actually wasn't hard. He could have sworn he was. He wondered briefly if that was why she'd rejected him, because she'd noticed.

He squeezed his eyes shout and grabbed himself anyway, the other hand leaning on the wall above the toilet. He needed the frustration, the pain, the anger to go away.

He started stroking himself, up and down, grunting in frustration because it took ages to get an erection, and it didn't even feel good. He tried making up a fantasy, something to think about, but nothing lasted, his mind kept going blank after a few seconds. Soon the motion of his fist became harder, faster, violent, trying to get a feeling, anything, but all he got was a slight burning from the rough friction. However, physiology is not an opinion, and a weak orgasm hit him after several minutes, half of his sperm spurting in the toilet bowl, the other half trickling down his hand.

"Fuck," he hissed, before cleaning himself with some toilet paper. He sat on the toilet, his flaccid cock red and slightly sore, his arm cramping from the prolonged effort, the frustration and pain still lingering in his soul. New tears began forming in his eyes.

He got everything wrong. He thought he needed physical release, but clearly that wasn't the case, and he felt sick at the mere idea that he was going to inflict this on Scully, that he even tried to seduce her with the basic purpose of getting off, especially seeing how awful that turned out to be. He had to thank her for stopping him, for being rational when he couldn't.

His eyes grew wide as the vivid memory of what happened earlier with her hit him. The way he treated her, the way he shouted at her after she pushed him away. He wondered if she'd left, he'd never forgive himself if she'd left, and he felt sick again, physically this time, his stomach contorting in a painful cramp and his heart accelerating in his chest.

She couldn't have left, could she? He didn't have anyone else. If Scully had left, if he'd ruined everything with her, he would be alone.

He immediately got up and fastened his jeans, ignoring the sense of sickness and dizziness, and left the bathroom. His room was dark, the only light coming from the bathroom behind him, and suddenly everything was spinning fast in front of his eyes. He stumbled across the room, calling her name, or at least thinking he was, when his throat started tightening, and his sight went black, and he just fell on his knees, emptying the content of his stomach on the floor in front of him.

Scully arrived a few seconds later, alarmed by the loud thud and coughs, and found him sitting on the floor with his back leaning against the wardrobe, and his legs splayed out in front of him. His face was pale as a sheet and his forehead covered in sweat. Then, she noticed an orange puddle of vomit right between his legs. She immediately ran towards him, and kneeled down next to him. His head was leaning back against the hard wood, and his eyes were semi-closed.

"Mulder! Are you okay?" she asked, touching his forehead with the back of her hand to check if his temperature was above normal, but thankfully it wasn't.

He nodded, so slightly that she thought she'd imagined it. "Scully…"

"What happened?" she questioned again, clearly concerned.

"I-I felt sick Scully… and everything went black…" he tried to explain, his voice so feeble that she could barely hear it.

"I can see that," she said, eyeing the large puddle of vomit on the floor, "do you think you can stand up? I'll help you."

He nodded again, and she hooked her arms under his shoulders to lift him up. It took a couple of attempts, but it got better when he stopped being a dead weight and helped himself with his legs. He wrapped his arms around her as she led him towards his bed, making sure neither of them stepped on his vomit.

"Here… lay down…" she whispered, as she helped him lie down on his bed.

As he managed to lift his own legs up on the bed, she walked to his bathroom and retrieve a full roll of toilet paper. She sat on the bed right next to him, and used some paper to gently wipe his mouth and chin still glistening with bile.

"Thank you," he said once she was done, his eyes still closed. His voice was getting firmer but she could tell his blood pressure was still pretty low.

"It's okay, I'm a doctor, I've seen worse," she reassured him, and his lips curled into a tiny smile, "I'll go clean up the mess on the floor now, it's starting to stink in here."

She soothingly ran her hand through his hair a couple of times before getting up. It took a few minutes to clean up everything, and from his position on the bed he could smell when she was done. The foul-smelling air was replaced by the fresh smell of his floor cleaner. It was almost relaxing.

"Try to get some rest now, okay?" she said sweetly, approaching his bedroom door. She thought it would be better for him to sleep a little bit, after all the things that happened, it wouldn't harm him for sure.

Her words, however, made him panic. Was she leaving? Was she leaving him? He hadn't even apologised yet.

"No! Wait!" he cried out, making her abruptly turn around with shock, "don't leave, Scully, please!"

"I'm not leaving, I'm just…"

She couldn't even finish her sentence. Her heart wrenched as he started weeping again, his sorrow visibly ripping through his body. Why he was crying now, she couldn't say, just as she couldn't say what caused the sudden drop of blood pressure that almost made him pass out. She kicked off her shoes, and laid down on the other side of the bed in a half sitting position, the upper half of her back against the pillow and her head against the headboard. He was still sobbing, his hands covering his face.

"It's okay, Mulder… I'm here, I'm not going anywhere…" she started whispering, her hand finding one of his arms and pulling it delicately towards her, "come here."

At hearing those words, he dropped his hands off his face to meet her eyes. "Can I?"

After what happened, after what he'd done, he had a hard time believing he could just pretend nothing happened, but she gave him the sweetest smile he'd ever seen, and she scooted closer to him, "yes, come here", she repeated, and he did exactly so.

Just as he did with her life, he covered her body with his from her hips up, hugging her and resting his head on her shoulder, as one of her arms wrapped around him, and the other hand landed on his head. She let him sob on her.

"My mother died today, Scully…" he began, as she stroked his hair, "and my sister, I'm probably never going to find her… You're all I have left."

She didn't know how to react to such a confession, other than holding him closer and kissing the top of his head. Not that she didn't know that already.

"If you leave me Scully, I have no one left," his quivering voice said, reaching straight to her soul.

"I'm not going anywhere," she whispered against his forehead, as some tears threatened to leave her own eyes. They were partners, in life before work, she couldn't leave him. She didn't want to. And she hoped he knew, underneath his grief and pain, she hoped he knew.

"Even after what I've done?"

He lifted himself up on his elbows just a little bit, to look at her while they talked about this.

His eyes were everything she needed to glance at when she wanted to know something he wasn't expressing out loud, and right now, staring into his red-rimmed, glistening eyes, was like staring into his soul.

"Nothing happened," she said, sounding as reassuring as possible, her hand leaving his hair to cup his cheek.

"Something did happen, Scully, I tried to…" he started, without finding the courage to finish his sentence. He tried to seduce her. He tried to touch her. "And I didn't even want to."

He'd looked down while saying the last sentence, going back to resting his head on her shoulder.

"I know. It's okay," she repeated, but it wasn't enough for him.

"No Scully… I could have never forgiven myself if I had put you through that. That's not how I want it for us."

He was weeping again, and she felt guilty because she could hardly repress a smile at the hidden meaning behind his words. She too had always imagined their first time to be different than what could have happened tonight. At least, she wanted to make love with him in a moment where their minds were both there with their bodies.

A feeling of content warmed her, just for a second, at the thought that although they never discussed this topic, they seemed to be on the same page.

Her hand resumed the soothing pace on his hair, gently massaging his scalp, as she kept whispering that everything was okay.

"Promise you're not going to leave me," he pleaded her, his voice broken and miserable, his pain flooding onto her through his tears.

She lifted his chin with a finger.

"Never. I promise," she said.

Just a hint of smile appeared on his lips for a fraction of second. His eyes lingered on hers, as her hands wiped away the tears that kept rolling down his cheeks.

"I love you Scully" he said suddenly, out of the blue and at the same time, after the longest wait, and she smiled, this time with no regrets, because she knew. She knew he loved her. She'd always known, even that time when he'd said it under the effect of heavy medicaments. The fact that Mulder loved Scully was one of the few truths in her life.

The fact that Scully loved Mulder was a truth too. She realised this was probably the perfect moment to say it back, to tell him she loved him, but she was never good at talking about her feelings out loud. So she just cupped his face gently, and closed the distance between them, leaning her lips on his, and hoping gestures could speak louder than words.

He tasted like vomit and tears, but she didn't care. She kept caressing his lips with hers, kissing him for all she was worth.

When they parted, he leaned his forehead on hers. He too knew she loved him, although she'd never said it out loud, but he just knew. He knew in her little gestures, in the way she cared about him, in the way she kissed him without really saying a word, he could feel all the love pouring out of her and straight into his heart.

As to prove his point, she peppered some other light kisses all over his face, on his forehead, on his cheeks, along his nose. Then, on the soft skin of his eyelids, covering those eyes that had seen so much and still looked at her as if she was the most precious thing in the world. His lips curled into a smile.

How was he supposed to not fall in love with someone who could make him smile even in his darkest moments.

"You should really get some rest now," she whispered against his closed eyes.

He nodded, and once again leaned his head down on her chest. "Can we stay like this?"

She shifted just a little bit and laid down completely, so that his body wasn't over hers but pressed against her side, one of his arms wrapped around her waist and one of his legs over her thighs. Unconsciously he was trying to trap her small body so that she couldn't move, couldn't leave him, and she welcomed him, not that she had any intention of leaving anyway.

One of her hands landed in his hair again, while the other one found his arm.

"What would I do without you," he murmured against the white collar of her shirt.

As an answer, she squeezed him tighter against her, her hand resuming a soothing movement in his hair. She often wondered that herself, what she would be without him. She would still be herself, she supposed, but never really wanted to find out the real answer.

"Scully?" he called her.

"Yes?"

"Will you sing something for me?"

She glanced down at him to see his relaxed face, his eyes closed, the signs of his tears dry on his face, just some dampness left on his eyelids. "What do you want me to sing?"

"Anything," he replied, "I just want to hear you."

She could never understand how her unpleasant off-key voice could possibly sound melodious to his ears, but sang for him anyway, just like she'd done in the past already, one night in the forest, with him cradled in her arms.

This time, she picked Moon River, just because she'd watched Breakfast at Tiffany's a couple of nights earlier, and the song got stuck in her head.

She sang softly to him, humming in those points where she couldn't remember the exact words, while her fingers didn't stop caressing his nape, randomly climbing his head again, or sneaking under the collar of his t-shirt. She kissed his forehead after the line that went "wherever you're going, I'm going your way", her favourite line, before resuming the song.

She couldn't say when exactly he fell asleep, but he wasn't awake once she was done with the song. She gazed at the man sleeping peacefully in her arms, a strong man who'd lost everything that night, everything except for her. He was a resilient person, a brave person, with a big heart and a fascinating mind, and right now, breathing regularly against her, he looked nothing more than a young boy who needed her affection and protection. She wondered how many times he too had looked at her like that.

"I love you too," she whispered, knowing that he couldn't hear her, and drifted off to sleep a few minutes later.

She was there when a couple of hours later he woke up crying, when the reality of things, of life and death, sank down on him after a peaceful dream where nothing had happened. She was there when he threw up again on the floor, though only fluids this time, probably a psychosomatic reaction, she assumed. She was there to comfort him, to clean up, to make him a hot tea, and then to cradle him back into her arms and back to sleep.

When they woke up again, more hours later, it was because of a knock on the door. She immediately opened her eyes, not a hard task since she'd been awake for a while now, aware of each and every movement or breath Mulder made, not wanting to be caught asleep in case he needed her again.

By the time he opened his eyes too, she was already standing up, and he grabbed her wrist.

"Where are you going?" he asked, a deep concern veiling his eyes.

She took his hand in hers and gave him a reassuring smile. "Someone knocked."

Then, she walked out of his room. He followed her just a few seconds later as he heard she was talking to Skinner.


	7. Post all things

_We reached the end of this! Thanks once again to all of you for your continuous support, I couldn't have done it without you!_

 _As you may have noticed, the rating changed to M, since this chapter is the post all things, and well, they have sex. So there will be some awkward times ahead, but then it's just smut. Also, this chapter is much longer than the others, I'm sorry!_

 _Well, I hoped you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it :)_

* * *

 **VI. My Funny Friend and Me (Post all things)**

 _Wordcount: 10474 words (sorry!)_

Mulder spent a few seconds just watching her sleep, removing a strand of red hair from her eyes, her chest rising and falling rhythmically under the thick blanket he'd put over her to keep her warm. He always loved watching Scully sleep, those rare moments in which all the worries, all the stress just disappeared, and she was free to fall into oblivion.

He wanted to pick her up and carry her to bed, so that she would be more comfortable, but on the other hand he also wanted to take a shower, and he was too afraid of waking her up with noise and movements, so eventually he decided to leave her there, peacefully asleep.

She woke up anyway just a couple of minutes later, when he accidentally stubbed his pinkie toe on the corner of the bed, which was followed by a groan and a loud "Fuck!".

Resisting the temptation to just close her eyes again, Scully tossed away the Navajo blanket and got up, her pantyhose the only thing separating the cold floor from her bare feet. She found him sitting on the edge of his bed with his bare foot in his hands, silently mouthing what looked like a wide range of curses.

He stopped immediately as soon as he noticed her presence in the room. "Scully? Oh shit, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up, I…"

"It's okay," she said, as he walked towards her. Every time she stood barefoot in front of him, he marvelled at how tiny she was compared to him. With heels on she gained a few inches, but like this, all natural, her head only reached his chest.

For some reason, his masculine scent was stronger to her nostrils than it'd ever been. She stared at his wide chest as she closed the distance between them, laying her hands gently on his biceps, stroking up and down. She felt different tonight, they felt different.

"Scully? Everything okay?" he asked, slightly taken aback by her behaviour, while his own hands lightly grasped her hips on their own will.

She finally looked up to meet his eyes, her teeth playing with her lower lip. She couldn't understand the reason, but there was now a subtle tingling in her whole body, while second after second a long forgotten kind of warmth pooled in her lower abdomen.

Maybe, it was just her mind finally giving in to the thought that this was her destiny, he was her destiny, this man standing in front of her, whose thumbs delicately stroked her flanks, was her destiny. She'd tried to avoid it at first, then she embraced it, but without the will to just let herself go completely. She told herself she wasn't ready to be his in every sense.

Well, maybe now she was.

Rising on her toes, she cupped his nape with a hand, inhaling sharply as finally her lips met his.

They'd kissed before, more than once, but he could immediately feel that this kiss was different than its predecessors. His heart skipped a beat as she licked his lower lip, silently asking for a permission that he'd been waiting years to grant her. His grip on her hips tightened, and he opened his mouth for her, letting her explore his cavity before meeting her in the middle. Their tongues played and dwelled with each other, their teeth grazing at their lips, as their hands explored their clothed bodies with growing passion and desire to finally take this last step in their relationship.

He felt his knees buckle when she suckled on his lower lip, and in a brief moment of rationality he pulled away from her, realising there was one thing he absolutely needed to do before it was too late.

"Are you completely sure?" he asked, leaning his forehead against hers, both panting a little for the lack of oxygen.

She nodded, the blue of her eyes almost completely engulfed by her dilated pupil. "Yes. Are you?"

"Yes."

Both their hearts started beating faster against their chest, but the seconds she gave her consent, it brought a new awareness to what they were doing, and some doubts with that.

Scully started kissing him again, not wanting him to sense her newly found insecurity, and the hidden fears she'd always had inside of her. What if it wasn't good? What if it didn't work out, thus risking to ruin their friendship? What if he had very high standards, and she couldn't live up to them?

She was quite confident with herself and her body, in general, but that didn't mean first times weren't a bit stressful under this point of view. Then, as she felt his hands toying with the edge of her green sweater, a new awareness hit her like a punch in the stomach.

She wasn't shaved. Anywhere.

She shaved her calves regularly since she often wore knee-long skirts to work, but her upper legs were natural, and so was her sex. And her armpits.

Fuck, she had hairy pits, she thought with disgust, trying to recall the last time she shaved there. It was this week, wasn't it? She couldn't remember. It could have been last week as well.

At least she'd taken a shower that morning. Which, to a more thorough thinking, was more than 12 hours ago. Great, first time sex with the man she loved, and her body was gross. _Good job, Dana._

She hadn't realised she had stiffened in his arms and had stopped him kissing him back with the same passion as she did before, but he felt it. He felt a change of mood in her, as if she wasn't there with him anymore, although he still had his tongue in her mouth and her hands were in his hair.

"Everything okay?" he asked, interrupting the kiss.

She hesitated for a moment. Yes, she was having second thoughts. Yes, if she could go back, she would probably go home instead, take a shower, shave, and postpone the sex to the following evening, just because she wanted to be perfect for him, he deserved it. Also, it made her feel more confident if her body was flawless.

A buzzing inside her head kept repeating that she should speak up, and talk to him about her doubts, but she decided to not listen to it. She needed to be as much of a woman for him as she possibly could, and was too afraid that talking to him about unwanted body hair would just spoil the mood and work as a boner killer.

"I'm fine," she replied eventually, too afraid to fail him as a sexual partner before they even started, "just… can we switch off the light?"

Mulder found himself disappointed at her request, since he loved seeing his partners, not only their naked bodies, but especially the facial expressions they made while he pleasured them. But if Scully wanted the light off, then light off it was.

He broke their embrace and flicked the light switch.

Darkness fell on them, the room now dimly lit only by the moon light filtering through his windows, and she immediately felt a little better.

Taking her hand, he led her to the bed to sit down, and sweetly resumed their kissing, just a brush of lips first, before he traced her lips with his tongue and she opened up again for him.

His mind, however, had gone elsewhere. For some reason, the spark they felt at the very beginning seemed to have died out. He was still turned on, but not quite as much as he would have imagined, and plus his rational side kept reminding him that he hadn't showered in something like twenty-four hours.

With all the evenings they spent together, at each other's place or in motel rooms, moments where he was showered and clean and smelled nice, she decided to have sex tonight. Worse timing ever, he thought.

Feeling his arousal starting to decline, he decided to stop thinking and just focus on her, the woman of his dreams, finally in his bed after seven years of waiting.

Seven years of waiting, he repeated in his head, and another rush of anxiety immediately sparked in him. She'd been waiting for this for a long time too, what if he gave a lousy performance? What if he couldn't please her? What if he came way too soon? What if they found out they had zero chemistry in bed, and it just ended up being awkward?

This time it was Scully who felt his decreasing enthusiasm in their kiss, and wondered if it was her fault, that she wasn't being participative enough. Or maybe it was the light off, she knew boys were very visual.

Deciding to take the matter into her own hands, she tugged at the edge of his dark blue sweater.

"I'm, uhm… I'm going to take this off now," she said uncertainly.

He nodded, smiling at her, and trying to ignore the fact that it sounded like an instruction for a medical examination. He lifted his arms nonetheless, and she removed his sweater together with the white t-shirt he was wearing underneath, throwing it somewhere in the room.

"I'll take off yours too," he said next, using the same voice he would use to ask her if he could open the window.

"Uh, yeah, sure."

He grabbed the edge of her sweatshirt and tried to pull it up, but it got stuck around her head.

"Yeah, the neck is… it's a bit tight," she mumbled awkwardly.

"Oh, yes, no problem," he muttered, as he removed his hands and let her finish the job. Soon, her green sweater joined his on the floor, and she was so grateful that the light was off and he couldn't see her cheeks reddening with embarrassment.

There they were, naked from the waist up except for her bra, a bland white cotton bra of course, and the atmosphere was ice cold.

He leaned in to kiss her again, and she wondered where the heat she felt earlier had gone, and how she could get it back. She wanted this, so badly, she wanted to make love with him, she'd been so horny earlier before her stupid brain decided to interfere, and now she was just scared she'd ruined everything.

Maybe if she could just focus on his kisses, instead on focusing on not lifting her arms too much in order not to reveal the hairs underneath, maybe that would help.

He was kissing her jawline, trying to elicit a reaction from her, a sigh, a moan, even a complaint would be good, but once again she was still and silent, making him think that he was getting everything wrong.

At this point, he realised they weren't going anywhere like this. He decided he would make one last attempt at saving the situation, before surrendering to the fact that sex between them just didn't work.

She felt him stop his ministrations and move away from her, just a few inches, and in that moment she realised too that they were screwing everything up.

"You're nervous," he whispered, wishing the light was on so that he could see her.

She bit her lower lip, nodding slightly. "A bit."

 _They say that admitting you have a problem is the first step towards solving it._

He raised his hand to cup her cheek, stepping inside their comfort zone, and she noticed an imperceptible shake in his movements. He was nervous too, just like her. He had the same fears she had.

Everything suddenly sounded so stupid in her head. She could always talk to him about everything, why would sex be different? She vowed to herself she would never forget that again.

"You're nervous too," she whispered, almost more to herself than to him.

He answered out of instinct, "I'm not nervous". Men weren't supposed to be nervous, or insecure, during sex, he reminded himself.

He couldn't see it because of the darkness, but she raised one eyebrow. "Your hand was shaking," she pointed out.

"I have no reason to be nervous, Scully," he started, his pitch way higher than normal, sign that he was lying but hoped she wouldn't notice, since he'd already lost quite a lot of points with her that night, "I've… I've done this in the past, with, uh, over three women… and, and I masturbate every second day, so…"

He was going to finish his sentence saying that he was confident in his skills, but he was interrupted by her sudden, explosive laughter. He'd never heard her laugh so hard before, and he couldn't help giggling too, as a reflexion.

The more he heard her, and the more he thought back at his own sentence, the more his own giggles transformed into a full-blown laughter, like hers.

"That was… that was probably the lamest thing I've ever said," he commented, trying to catch his breath.

She nodded in the darkness, her eyes wetting up with joyful tears. It wasn't _that_ funny, but it felt like a liberation, like they could get rid of the nervousness and start anew.

"I didn't shave," she suddenly blurted out, and they laughed some more.

"It's okay. Me neither."

She used her hands to wipe her eyes, finding it suddenly unbelievable that she was going to ruin everything just because she was ashamed of her body. She should have talked to him immediately, it would have spared some awkwardness.

"And by the way, I didn't even had a shower today," he added.

She chuckled. "I had one this morning, does it count?"

Now it was his turn to laugh, his heart swelling with renewed love for her. "Well, I guess the words 'dirty sex' just got a whole new meaning."

They kept giggling in unison, but this time, she closed the distance between their bodies, and hugged him, her chin leaning on his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her, and held her close.

"We shouldn't be nervous," he whispered to her ear, sending a chill down her spine.

Scully grinned, suddenly very aware of his warm breath against her neck, and their naked skin pressed together, his soft chest hair tickling the swell of her breasts. The heat was coming back.

"No we shouldn't," she agreed, nuzzling his neck. He was her best friend. He'd seen her at her best, and at her worst, he'd seen her cry and laugh, he'd met powerful Scully in the office, domestic Scully at home, and helpless Scully in a hospital bed. He knew her, really deeply knew her, and he loved her for who she was, she reminded herself. There was nothing to hide with him, nothing to be ashamed of.

As they parted, he searched for her eyes, those beautiful blue eyes that kept him alive so many times. They sparkled in the darkness, a bit from the residual tears of laughter, and a bit from the emotion.

"Shall we start over?" he asked, the tip of his fingers stroking up and down her arm.

She smirked. "Let's."

Then, she reached out behind her and switched on the lamp on his nightstand.

"I thought you wanted the light off," he said, unable to hide the excitement at her decision. He could see her now. He could see her ivory skin, her white bra (never had he thought he would find a white cotton bra so sexy), her hair of fire framing her face. Her plump lips slightly curled up in a smile, the lipstick smudged from their kisses. He couldn't wait to kiss her again, everywhere.

"I changed my mind," she simply said with a shrug.

He started slowly, with a chaste kiss on her cheek, and then one on the tip of her nose, his arms enveloping her again. He wanted to take his time to explore her, make her feel good. A sigh left her lips as he captured her mouth with his and sucked on her upper lip, her hands reaching behind his neck to pull him even closer, never wanting to let go.

They laid down on the bed, her head landing on the pillow and his body above hers, never breaking their contact.

He kissed all over her face, lingering where her freckles were hidden under the make-up, and then found her little mole on her upper lip.

"I like your mole," he said, kissing it.

"You like my face and the mole happens to be on it," she corrected him.

His lips met hers again. "True."

They rolled on their side, still in each other's arms, and now it was her time to pepper kisses on his face, as she leisurely roamed his chest with her hands, surprised by how warm and soft his skin actually was, but even more surprised by how familiar his body was. She traced with a finger the edges of a small scar on his shoulder.

"Is this…?"

"Yes," he replied, "it's from that time when you shot me."

She grinned, planting a little kiss on it. "Fun times."

His hand took her own, still resting on his chest, and brought it to his lips. He loved her hands, those tiny hands that dissected corpses and held guns on a daily basis, those hands that had saved his life so many time, and that now were touching him with love and care.

He kissed all the way up her arm before meeting her mouth again, while his fingertips travelled back down to caress her stomach and ribcage, slowly, as to count her ribs.

"I can't believe you're not ticklish anywhere," he whispered.

"Are you?" she teased.

"Not at all," he said quite confidently, but she was a scientist, she had to test every claim to confirm it. She slid her hands along the sides of his ribcage and moved her fingers in a tickling motion. He tried to keep a straight face for the first two seconds, but then squirmed and curled up against her with a sound that was something between a giggle and a squeal.

She stopped her hands immediately, a wide grin on her face.

"That was a low blow Scully," he said, smirking, "just so you know, I'm planning to find your weak spots too."

"You can try," she teased, before sneaking her hand behind his head and pulling him towards her for a much more passionate kiss.

They just made out, changing position from time to time, for what felt like hours, just cherishing each other's closeness, and savouring the anticipation for what was going to happen. Soon, the heavy breaths turned into pants, while their touches became less playful and more feral.

He rolled her under him again, and she stroked his back from the edge of his jeans up to his hair and then down again to grab his ass above the denim. He smiled against her lips when she did that.

"Any chance…" she stopped to softly bite his lower lip and tug at the belt loops on his jeans, "you could take these off?", another bite. That damn pouty lip was addictive.

It was his time now to suck her lower lip into his mouth. "Sure."

He didn't move though, too busy exploring her mouth with his tongue. She still tasted like the hot tea she drank earlier on his couch, apple and cinnamon, but he much more preferred the underlying taste, the sweet Scully taste, best spice in the whole world.

She slid her hand between them, down his torso, feeling his muscles contracting at her passage, and palmed his cock through his jeans, earning herself a low groan in her mouth. He was hard and sensitive, and she felt a her juices wetting her underwear at the idea.

"I meant now," she breathed, using her fingers to work on the button.

It took him a couple of seconds to realise she was talking about his jeans, and he immediately obliged her request. Standing up quickly, he slid them down his legs and kicked them away, and she licked her lips at the sight of his erection hidden behind his black boxer briefs.

"Those need to go too," he said pointing at her skirt and pantyhose.

She nodded, her hand reaching the side zip of her skirt, but he stopped her.

"May I?" he asked, replacing her hand with his.

She nodded. With one smooth gesture, he unzipped her skirt and slid it down her legs together with her pantyhose.

Mulder laid down over her again, nestling between her legs and kissing away that excited smirk of hers, while she finally managed to slid her hands under his underwear and knead his bare ass. He let out a sigh at the contact.

"Nice," she whispered against his lips, pleased that his buttocks where just as firm and round as they looked under his pants.

After one last lick to her glistening lips, he created a trail of kisses down her neck, licking and nibbling at her sensitive skin, lingering on the spots that turned her heavy breaths into moans. One spot in particular, right under her ear, had that particular effect, and he focused on it for a while, suckling her earlobe into his mouth and tickling it with the tip of his tongue, smiling internally when she titled her head to one side to give him more access and pressed his head against her neck to keep him there. His other hand travelled on her body, dancing down her throat and to her sternum. She whimpered when she felt his fingers trace the cups of her bra.

"Mulder," she breathed. Her nipples were quickly hardening beneath the cotton as his pads swiped underneath her breasts, against her ribcage, while his mouth still kissed and licked her neck and throat.

He sucked a bit harder on her pulse point, and she had to repress a moan. "N-no hickeys where they can be seen," she whispered shakily, her hand gently tugging at his hair to reinforce her words.

"Alright," he whined against her skin, kissing his way down to her collarbones. She was going to thank him when his skilled tongue found another sweet spot, right where her neck met her shoulder, sending a new wave of shivers down her whole body.

She hummed, squirming slightly under him as he kept nibbling at that same spot again and again. She couldn't wait to experience his oral skills elsewhere.

With one last lick, he moved southwards, following the path that his fingers had traced earlier, down her sternum, focusing on the point where her bra met her ribcage, she seemed to like that. He groaned as she arched under him, the sounds coming from her mouth were the sexiest thing he'd ever heard. He pressed his erection into the bed, to relieve some pressure.

Her body was on fire, her panties soaking wet against her curls. Her nipples were impossibly hard and aching for his touch. She whimpered again, louder, when he finally brushed her breast and hit her swollen peak, the friction of the cotton against it way sweeter than she remembered.

He had to squeeze his eyes shut at hearing her reaction to his touch, trying so hard not to just give up on his intentions, and take her immediately. No, he wanted to go on with his thorough exploration.

He lifted his mouth from her skin, and went back facing her. Her lips were hanging slightly open, her pupils dilated with lust. He pressed a quick peck on her mouth.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

She gave him a puzzled look. "For what?"

"The Mulder experience," he replied wiggling his eyebrows.

She giggled, trying to hide the fact that she was already trembling in anticipation. Just his tongue on her neck had been enough to make her as horny as she'd ever been, she could only imagine what would come next.

But on the other hand, she didn't want to give him too much satisfaction just yet. She tucked her arms under the pillow, below her head. "I'm ready. Show me your moves."

He grinned and sloppily kissed her again before lowering herself down her body, and she closed her eyes, her nipples tingling in anticipation. He was going to touch them, right? She needed his mouth and hands on her breasts.

Instead, she felt him travelling lower, until he was kneeled between her legs.

She spread her knees in front of him, revealing the wet patch on her white panties, and hoping that he would at least touch her there since he had ignored her breasts completely. However, he didn't move. He just stared at her, almost naked and open before him, thinking how beautiful she was and how lucky he got to have her. He noticed the sign of her desire for him, and smirked to himself. He had done that, all by himself, he'd made her wet.

She repressed a frustrated moan when he touched her ankles instead of her sex. "Mulder!", she uttered, lifting her head from the pillow to meet his eyes. There was a mix of sweetness and amusement in there. She pressed her knees together to relieve some of the pressure building in her core.

"You gotta believe, Scully," he said, raising one of her legs and placing a kiss on the back of her foot, "it's the Mulder experience". He wiggled his eyebrows again while saying the last part.

She sighed, still very horny but amused, deciding she would let him do whatever he had in mind, and dropped her head again on the pillow.

He began trailing soft kisses up her leg, starting from her ankle and travelling to her knee, while his hands stroked her calves. He liked her legs, they were smooth and creamy, and he was reminded of all those times out in the field, where they ran to chase something or someone. He was always quicker than her, but she was impressive, given the fact that she ran with heels most of the time. He always thought he would sprain an ankle if he ever had to run with heels.

Tilting his neck, he gave special ministrations to the back of her knee, quickly glancing at her face to check if she was still enjoying this.

And she was, way more than what she thought. It was like every nerve on her legs was directly connected to her clit, every contact his mouth made with her skin more pleasurable than the one before.

Her internal walls twitched as he kept working up her leg with his hands and mouth, getting closer and closer to the final goal. He couldn't help smiling as her leg hairs tickled his nose. There was something very intimate in that, in seeing and touching parts of her that she usually kept hidden, and of which she was ashamed. It made him feel flattered somehow.

She could feel the strokes, the gentle nibbles on her inner thighs now, and a shudder ran down her spine. However, just when he was about to make contact with her groin, he switched leg and started all over again from her ankle.

She forcefully pressed her lips together, trying to resist the temptation to touch herself. She loved foreplay, of any kind, sex with loads of foreplay was her favourite kind of sex, she preferred it to rough straight-to-the-point sex (although she occasionally loved a rough fuck). However, this was a whole new kind of slow, and it was driving her insane. Well, at least she had enough confirmation that he was a generous lover.

She didn't know if he read her thoughts, or if it was what he had in mind, but he suddenly started kissing up her leg and hip, until he was face to face with her, nestled again between her legs. Finally having his solid body pressed against her sent her into sensory overload, and she arched under him, her arms wrapping around his neck, their lips meeting in a new hungry kiss.

Her hands were everywhere on his body, on his back, on his chest, palming his hard cock that was throbbing between them, she couldn't get enough of him. She tried to rub her clit against his dick, and groaned in frustration when she found it slightly out of reach.

Suddenly he rolled them on their side, and his hands gripped her buttocks, squeezing them hard, as she gasped and hooked a leg above his hip, his hot mouth sliding to her neck, leaving wet marks on it. She threw her head back in pleasure, giving him all the space he needed, her mouth hanging slightly open, her hands entangled in his hair to keep him in place.

Soon his hands travelled up her back again and unhooked her bra.

"Thank you," she whispered, without really knowing what she was saying, just glad that he was finally acknowledging she had boobs. She felt him chuckle against the hollow of her neck, while his hands lowered her bra straps, and she felt the weight of her breast drop against her torso.

"You're welcome," he replied mockingly, his mouth following his hands. He slid her bra completely down her arms and pushed her on her back once again, to finally admire the view.

She watched him as he stared at her boobs, smiling excitedly. He looked like a kid on Christmas morning.

"These are really nice Scully," he said, and a giggle left her lips when he started tentatively touching them, pushing them together to see them bouncing back. He'd seen her breasts before, but just quick glances. Now he had all the time to study them, to enjoy their softness and appreciate the contrast between her porcelain skin and her large darker areolas. Her nipples were jutting out, hard as rocks and begging for attentions. He loved that they were a little bigger than he expected, and he licked his lips at the thought of what he was going to do with them soon enough.

She was about to ask him if he'd ever seen human breasts before and if he needed instructions, when she felt his hands close on them, kneading them lightly. She moaned, her eyes falling shut. This was so much better than the ankles.

He removed his hands, and used a finger to trace her areolas, starting from the point where they met her ivory skin, and moving towards her nipples in tortuous loops. His eyes were fixed on her, on the little show she was putting up for him: her mouth open, her breath getting heavier at every loop of his fingers. He was focusing hard trying not to come while touching her boobs.

"Yes," she moaned when he finally flickered her swollen peaks, pinching them softly at first, and then harder as she writhed under him. She winced in a mix of pleasure and pain after a particularly harsh pinch.

"N-not so rough…" she managed to whisper.

He kissed her collarbone. "Sorry."

"It's fi-oooh!" she trailed off as she felt his hot mouth close around her nipple, flicking it with his tongue before sucking on it. His other hand kept working on the other breast, ensuring it wouldn't feel neglected, massaging it and rolling her nipple between his fingers, revelling in the increasing sounds of approval she emitted.

She arched her back, pushing her breasts towards his mouth, and he bit softly on her peak, before soothing it with his tongue. He figured she wouldn't like hard bites since she didn't like hard pinches, and apparently he was right, as he was rewarded with a lustful whisper of his name.

He switched breasts, repeating the same ministrations, licking, suckling, nibbling. She was moaning incoherently now, and her hands roamed his back without real destination. She'd never been so wet in her life before. Her folds were swollen, her clit ached with desire. She tried to hump him, his leg, his hips, anything, but once again everything was out of reach, and she couldn't hump his abdomen. Still, she kept rocking her hips up and down, looking for a friction that wouldn't be, and hoped he would take the hint.

It came as no surprise when he didn't. He kept working on her breasts with his mouth, kissing the nipples as well as the underside, and then kissed all the way up to her neck, finding again those sweet spots he'd pinpointed earlier. She didn't even know what he was doing exactly anymore, she could just feel his hands and tongue everywhere. Everywhere except where she needed it the most.

"Mulder," she breathed shakily.

He looked up at her, his hand still fondling her breast. "Yes?"

It was so hard to talk while he touched her like that. "This is all so good, Mulder, but…"

"But?" he interrupted her with a deep concern immediately clouding his eyes.

She licked her lips, and her eyes met his. "But I need you to touch my vulva."

He couldn't rationally explain the twitch of his cock at hearing her wanton voice saying that particular unsexy word, but it happened. He just smirked at her, and shifted away from her so that he lay against her side. He nuzzled her shoulder, pressing light kisses there, as his hand trailed down her sternum and her abdomen. She licked her lips in anticipation, feeling him getting closer and closer to her core. She instinctively spread her legs even wider as he brushed her mound, pushing her hips against his hand as he cupped her sex above her underwear.

With one finger, he traced the wet patch on the front of her panties, and she gasped. She was so wet his pad was getting damp too from the friction.

"Well, it looks like you're enjoying the Mulder experience," he whispered to her ear, his lips grazing her earlobe.

"Yes," she agreed, more of a reaction to his touch than an actual reply to his comment.

The quivery whimper she emitted when he slipped his hand under her panties and traced her slit was without doubt the hottest sound he'd ever heard.

Correction, the second hottest sound.

"Oh, oh God," she moaned when he slowly inserted his finger between her folds, exploring her slick soft flesh, before finding her entrance and pushing his finger all the way inside. She gasped, loudly, her hips rotating against his hand, desperate to get more contact.

He exhaled sharply too. The mere idea that she was this turned on, so much that there was barely any traction between his finger and her walls, was almost enough to push him on the edge. He distanced his hips from her hip, afraid that at this point any contact on his cock might turn into an unfortunate accident.

He started pumping his finger in and out of her, her juices coating it, and he slid it out and around her throbbing clit, once and then twice, before entering her again. The first contact on her clit sent a jolt of electricity throughout her whole body, and she almost yelped, instinctively wrapping her arm around his neck and pulling him towards her. They kissed, hungrily and deeply, his finger still moving inside her. He kept his eyes open, to enjoy the view of her features contorted in pleasure, to see her eyes roll back every time he touched her clit. He didn't know if it was possible, but he had the impression she was getting wetter at every stroke.

She broke the kiss gasping for air when the heel of his hand hit her clit once more, and his head too dropped on her chest, panting almost as hard as her.

"You're so wet, Scully," he breathed, leaving a path of kisses along her jawline, his hand halting its movement.

She was going to complain about that when he spoke again.

"Can I taste you?"

For a short second she didn't say anything, his words registering in her aroused brain. Then, he couldn't quite describe the beaming smile that appeared on her face if not labelling it as pure excitement, like a kid who's promised a prize. Her eyes too were sparkling with a new light. He couldn't help smiling too.

"I take it you like my idea?" he laughed, slowly removing his hand from her pussy.

She nodded quickly, sucking her own lip into her mouth. "I was afraid you'd never ask."

He giggled at her words, deciding he wasn't going to be offended for this once, and briefly captured her lips again. She squirmed under him, her hands on his shoulders pushing him impatiently down her body.

She wasn't going to deny to him that cunnilingus was her favourite sexual act. Penetration was good, could be _very_ good even, but it was more about the mental connection and the feeling of unity with her lover, not so much about physical pleasure. Fingering was fine too, if done properly, but internal stimulation alone never got her off. When she was in med school, she had planned to dedicate an afternoon to the search of her g-spot. It turned out it didn't require hours to find, as her former lovers had led her to believe, and yes, stimulating it was amazing, but nothing for her could possibly compare to the feeling of a man's tongue on her clit.

Her internal walls twitched in anticipation as he run the tip of her tongue down her sternum and belly, lingering in her navel for a few seconds. Seconds after, she felt his fingers pulling at her panties, sliding them down her legs. She spread her thighs eagerly for him, and he finally inhaled her powerful scent, pure feminine arousal and Scully.

He pulled her legs above his shoulders and circled her thighs with his arms, opening her moist folds with two fingers. She could feel his warm breath on her. She was ready. Any second now, his mouth was going to pleasure her.

A couple of second passed, and nothing happened. She just exhaled in exasperation.

"Mulder, why are you staring at my vulva?"

"It's a pretty vulva," he replied matter-of-factly, pretending once again that her use of the v-word hadn't gone straight to his cock.

"Oh come on, just- …YES!" she cried out, almost laughing, when his tongue finally made contact with her heated flesh, and she immediately knew this wasn't going to take long.

He lavished her folds, slowly at first, savouring her with eyes closed, before thrusting his tongue into her tight opening, licking her walls. She tasted so good, sweet and tangy, it was the most powerful aphrodisiac he'd ever tasted. He could swear he could taste a hint of peppermint in the back of his mouth.

Her hips began thrusting against his mouth, and he complied her silent request, licking up to her swollen clit, circling it with small loops. She squealed, her head thrown back on the pillow.

She was getting wild. Her hips moved out of control, so much that he had to put a hand on her abdomen to keep her down. She moaned, louder and louder at every loop, her hands entangling in his hair to make sure he wouldn't move. This was just too good. Waves of pleasure were rippling through her body, reaching her depths and extremities.

She tugged harshly at his hair when he tried to push his tongue inside her entrance again. "NO! No! Stay on my clit, stay on my… Oh God!"

He immediately obliged, going back to her bundle of nerves, suckling it inside his mouth, flicking it, licking the underside, and her thighs started quivering, her moans getting more high-pitched.

"I'm- I'm so close, M-m-m-mulder I'm close, just like that, don't you dare stop, oh God…" she kept mumbling incoherently, her mouth open and gasping for air, her nipples hard as pebbles.

While his mouth kept working restlessly on her clit, he used his free hand to push a finger back into her, and that further stimulation pushed her over the edge. She came loudly, her body arching off the bed, her legs going rigid and clamping around his head, her toes curling. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to come with her just glancing at her face contorted in ecstasy and hearing the sexy sounds she kept making. He helped her ride her orgasm, enjoying the contractions of her pussy around his finger.

Soon her body started relaxing against the bed. Her legs dropped from his shoulders, her hands left his hair. He wiped his mouth with his arm and kissed up her body until his face was next to hers. He laid down next to her on his side, and he found her still panting, one arm across her waist and the other on her forehead, her eyes closed. Her body was in a state of pure bliss. His fingers weren't bad at all, but God was his tongue talented.

"That was very quick, Scully," he mocked her, nuzzling her cheek, "very hot and very quick."

"Shut up Mulder."

She shot him an annoyed look, but he knew she was joking with him, just like he was joking with her. The smirk that had just appeared on her lips was what gave her away. He was honestly glad she seemed to need a minute to recover from her orgasm. Had she asked him to fuck her immediately, he would have come in about ten seconds.

He placed sweet little kisses along her jawline, while his hand found her breast and fondled it softly. For years, he wondered what Scully was like in bed. He always assumed he would discover a whole new side of her, as if there was another person hidden in her. Would she be insatiable, feral even, like one of his porn stars? Or would she be a little shy, cold maybe, afraid to let go? He'd always hoped for the first option, but would have eagerly accepted the second one as well. However, all of those thoughts sounded so stupid, now that he had learned that the person in his bed was in fact Dana Scully herself. It was hard to explain, but everything he knew about her, her strong, authoritative side, her scientific side, her sophisticated fun side, everything that made Scully who she was and that made him fall in love with her, all of this was somehow mirrored in her sexuality too.

He was really, truly making love to his best friend, who also happened to be the woman he loved, and he'd never done that before. Not that he'd had so many sexual partners. Or best friends, for that matter.

He used his forefinger to softly poke her boob, mesmerised by the way it kept bouncing back to its original state. Definitely his favourite part of a woman's body.

She rolled her eyes but couldn't help giggling as she heard him utter odd onomatopoeic sounds in time with his touches. Mulder's playful side, the side that threw pencils on the ceiling and tried to steal her ice-cream, was one of her favourite sides of him.

"Mulder, kiss me," she requested, patting his back to get his attentions.

He immediately stopped what he was doing and settled his body back over her, his lips meeting hers once again, followed by his tongue. She could taste herself on him, and although it wasn't a thing she particularly liked, kissing him was just too addictive.

Scully stroked his thigh with her foot, up and down, involuntarily pushing his hips up against her pussy. His erection was rock hard, and he groaned softly into her mouth. She was honestly impressed at his patience and perseverance. He'd already made her come once, and she'd barely touched him there, he was still wearing his boxer briefs. He wasn't impatient, he wasn't pushing her, he had waited for her while playing with her boobs.

Well, time to reward him, she told herself.

"So," she said, breaking their kiss, as he leaned his forehead against hers, "you said I was quick."

And she had been, much to her surprise. Usually she took way longer than that, but she'd been so horny earlier, and he'd touched and licked her so thoroughly, and it'd been so long since the last time someone went down on her, that by the time he started, she was already on the edge.

"You were," he replied with a smirk.

"It's been a long time, you know," she admitted, "and plus, I don't think you'll last much longer."

He scoffed. "Well, as I said, Scully, that was _very_ quick."

She crooked an eyebrow. "So you think you _can_ do better, Mulder?"

His first instinct was to shrug, but then he thought better about the tone she used. "Is this a challenge?"

Her eyes sparkled with renewed excitement, as she felt herself getting wet again. "Take those off," she commanded, eyeing his boxer briefs. He'd learned today she liked to watch.

He sat up and slid his underwear down his legs, his hard cock jutting out of his body. He looked at her, his weight on his arms, waiting for a comment or something, but she said nothing, she just ran her eyes along his body and then back up.

He suddenly felt exposed under her gaze, and a little insecure. He never considered himself small, but maybe she'd only been with very well-endowed guys, while he was pretty much average according to that white American statistic that he'd never admit he read.

"Is it… is it okay?" he asked.

A quizzical look appeared on her face. "What?"

As an answer, he glanced down at his cock.

She immediately understood what he was referring to, and found this particular male insecurity of his frankly cute. "It's very okay," she said with the sweetest smile. And it was. He was averagely long, probably between six and seven inches, and quite thick, but not thick enough to make her wonder whether it would fit in her without tearing her apart.

He relaxed instantly at her words, returning her smile. She wrapped her arms around him and pressed a kiss on his shoulder.

"You're beautiful," she whispered, and kissed him again. Then she sat on his lap with her legs straddling his hips, their sexes close but not quite touching. She wanted to have a little fun with him too.

"I don't need foreplay," he said with a mischievous smile.

"You don't like foreplay?"

"I do, but…"

She cut him off pressing a finger against his lips. "Then just enjoy it. It's the Scully experience!"

She wiggled her eyebrows, just like he had done before, and he giggled, before his tongue flicked out to lick his lips. She seized the occasion, and captured his mouth with hers.

Her hands started rubbing his chest in circles, slowly, going up to his shoulders and then down again, his hairs standing on end at her touch. She marvelled at how his breathing was getting heavier with just this simple touch. She loved how turned on he was, and this was turning her on too. Just because she loved receiving, didn't mean she didn't love giving too. Pleasuring her partner was a fundamental part of the experience for her, it added to her own pleasure as well.

He inhaled sharply when her thumbs swiped across his nipples. She did that again, stroking them, scratching them softly with her nails, until they became hard under her touch and he gasped, breaking the kiss.

Scully smirked proudly to herself, and leaned her forehead against his, finding his eyes. Her hand began its journey down his abdomen, and she could see his pupils grow wider, and his breathing becoming more laboured at every inch.

When she finally wrapped her hand around his cock, a low groan left his mouth, and he dropped his head on her shoulder. He was hard as a rock, but his skin was soft and silky. Her free hand reached around his back to push him closer, and his arms too wrapped around her.

She started stroking his shaft, agonisingly slowly, avoiding the head for now, while her lips grazed at his neck exposed in front of her. She could taste his sweat, and the underlying flavour of Mulder and sunflower seeds.

"S-Scully," he breathed shakily, as she swiped her thumb across his head, spreading his pre-come around.

She grinned and continued with her ministrations, pumping his cock in a deliberate torture while she kept kissing and nibbling his neck. She moved slowly to his throat, licking around his Adam's apple, and he threw his head back to give her more access.

"Fuck Scully, it's so good," he whispered.

The sensations he was feeling were incredible. Her hand on his cock was going too slowly to actually get him off, but it was keeping him there, teetering on the precipice, and her mouth on his throat seemed to somehow amplify the pleasure and extend it to his whole body.

One more swipe of her thumb across his head, and she moved her lips to his ear, softly biting on it. "Lay down."

He just did so, without questioning her, while she shifted just a little to facilitate his movements, letting go of his cock. As he moved, he realised she'd left a wet patch on his legs, where she was sitting. He loved the idea that she got that turned on just by touching him.

Once he was supine, she settled over him, and kissed his mouth first, and then his jawline, biting softly. "It's fellatio time."

He groaned in anticipation. "Fuck, Scully."

He wasn't quite sure he could actually handle her mouth on him, but he was more than willing to give it a try. He just hoped she didn't feel like she _had_ to do that.

"Wait," he immediately added, "you don't have to if you don't want to."

"I know," she said, her mouth back at nibbling his earlobe, "but I want to."

She kissed him again, just because they hadn't kissed properly for seven years, and they now needed to make up for the lost time. Her hand wrapped firmly around his cock again, while her mouth trailed an imaginary line down his chest, eliciting small pants from him when she stopped on his nipples to lick them. He really seemed to like this.

He was never actually a fan of nipple play when it came to his own nipples, it was okay to have them rubbed occasionally but no more than that, but he was starting to suspect that she could rub his elbow and reduce him into an helpless bundle of nerves.

She resumed her path, and soon her mouth joined her hand on his hard shaft, while the other massaged his balls.

"You have a pretty penis, Mulder," she said mimicking his earlier words, and kissing his glans. He wanted to retort something about her choice of words, but the pleasure was too much. A chocked moan left his lips at the first lick of her tongue along his length, tracing his veins and then swirling around the head. He tasted salty on her tongue.

He wanted this to last as long as possible, because it was just too good, but as soon as she took his swollen head into her mouth and sucked lightly on it, he felt his balls tighten.

"Stopstopstopstop…" he said, trying to sit up in an attempt to remove his cock from her mouth. That was close.

She let him go with a pop and a happy grin.

"You can have your orgasm if you want," she said, her hand still wrapped around his girth, "I'll wait for you."

"Scully, I didn't give myself blue balls multiple times today just to come down your throat," he replied, and she laughed.

She climbed on top of him, finding his mouth again. Although she'd come once already, touching and tasting him had turner her on so much that it was almost like she never had that orgasm to begin with.

His hands ran along her body, kneading her arse and suckling on her nipples, as she whimpered rubbing her clit along his shaft.

"I'm ready when you are," she whispered to his ear, lavishing his shell with her tongue.

As an answer, he thrusted his hips against her, and she yelped, her clit sparkling with the added pressure. She reached down between them and grabbed his erection once again, ready to guide it to her entrance.

Mulder stopped her before she could do anything more.

"Can I be on top?" he asked.

She was taken aback by his question. "Why?"

"I'm afraid this will last twelve seconds if I can't control the movements myself," he replied frankly.

She thought about his words for a second, since she wanted to be on top herself in order to regulate the penetration as she liked, but eventually she decided to do this his way. She trusted him. She knew he would listen to her so that it could be good for both of them.

She nodded, "alright", and kissed his lips again, before he gripped her hips and rolled her under him. She emitted a sound that was kind of like a squeal, and he kissed her again, as she opened her legs for him and he nestled in between. He rubbed the head of his cock along her folds a few more times, because she liked it so much, her wetness dripping out of her and onto him.

"Let's take this slowly, please? I haven't used those muscles in a while," she said against his lips, feeling him pressing against her entrance.

He placed a kiss on her forehead and one on the tip of her nose. "Slowest sex you've ever had, Scully. As slow as a snail."

She chuckled, and he kept his word. He pushed inside her gradually, inch after inch, stopping briefly whenever he felt her contracting around him and then resuming once she relaxed, without ever interrupting the delicate kisses he was peppering all over her face. She was hot, tight, and slick, and the most amazing thing he'd ever felt.

She was his partner, his best friend, his lover, his family, and he was inside her, and it was heaven on Earth.

He dropped his head against her forehead once he was completely buried in her, and met her eyes, those beautiful blue eyes of hers that had been his secret addiction since the moment he'd first seen them.

"Does it hurt?" he asked.

"A little," she admitted, "I need a second."

"I don't mean to sound like an asshole, but it's good that you need a second, because I need one too."

She cupped his face and pulled his lips on hers, closing her eyes. She could still feel her walls stinging with pain, stretching to accommodate him, but the feeling of having him inside her was wonderful. They were a perfect fit, mentally and physically, and soon, while their tongues caressed each other, she felt the pain gradually give in to pleasure, and to that sweet sensation to be one body with the man she loved more than anyone else.

Seven years of adventure and misadventures, seven years of love, and it all led up to this, she thought. _Totally worth the wait._

As her eyelids fluttered open, she was welcomed by his hazel eyes, glistening with tears of love, gazing at her as if she were the most beautiful, perfect being in the whole universe. And she was, to him. She kissed him again when she noticed his tears were threatening to fall down his cheeks.

They remained like that, still, him inside her, just kissing and nuzzling each other's face. Just one tear left his eyes, but she promptly wiped it away with her thumb, and he sniffled. After a few seconds, she moved her hips against him to give him green light, and he started moving inside her, pulling almost all the way out before pushing his way back him. They gasped in unison at the sensation.

"This is good," he said, already panting.

He kept a slow, steady rhythm, thrusting in and out of her, their breaths and moans filling the room. She couldn't stop looking at him, at his closed eyes, his semi-open mouth, at the way his whole body quivered trying to hold off his own climax and make this last as long as possible.

She could somehow feel his pleasure too as well as her own, from his cock hitting all the raw nerves inside of her, and she started meeting his thrusts, wrapping her legs around his hips.

At first she was almost sure she wouldn't have another orgasm, but now everything was so hot and intense that it became a possibility again. His pubic hair scratched her clit at every thrust, but it wasn't nearly enough.

She slid a hand down her body and started rubbing her clit in circles, whimpering at the new stimulation.

He goggled at her as he noticed what she was doing, and immediately removed her hand to replace it with his own. She cried out and wrapped her arms around his back, scratching almost violently.

"Go faster," she breathed, "make me come."

He was too far gone to understand whether she was referring to his hand or his cock, so he sped up both his movements. They both moaned loudly as he pounded harder into her and rubbed her clit frenetically, her breasts jiggling on her chest in time with his thrusts, her heels digging on his buttocks.

He couldn't last long though. After just a few seconds, he started seeing stars in front of his eyes and he knew he couldn't hold off anymore.

"S-Scully, I-I c-can't…" he panted, without halting his movement on her clit.

"It's okay, let it go… come for me Mulder…" she just said, cupping his face with her hands, and after one more push he came with a series of very unmanly whimpers that she muffled with a sloppy kiss.

His sounds vibrating in her throat, the sight of ecstasy on his face, his tongue in her mouth, the feeling of his hot spurts inside of her, his hand still rubbing her clit, all these things combined were what did it for her too, and another orgasm tiptoed through her body, her walls clenching around him and a sigh escaping her lips. Although it wasn't nearly as strong as the previous one, it satisfied her anyway.

As he came down from his peak, he leaned his head on her shoulder. He hadn't realised she'd come already, so his hand kept working on her clit. She had to remove it herself, her flesh now so sensitive that his touch was getting painful.

He immediately faced her, concern veiling his face. "W-what, why, you, you didn't finish, I could have-"

"I did," she just stated with a smirk, "I did."

He immediately relaxed with a sigh, dropping his head again on her shoulder.

She ran a hand through his hair, feeling his sweat coat his forehead, before he rolled off her and onto his back.

There was a moment of silence, their pants the only sound hearable in the room.

"Well, it wasn't bad, was it?" he said aloud.

"It was good," she replied nodding.

"Best 90 seconds of your life?"

They glanced at each other, their pants turning into giggles.

"Oh come on, I'm sure it was at least two full minutes," she teased him.

He crossed his arm to his chest, pretending to be offended by her mockery. "You automatically lost your chance to mock me when you came for the second time."

She laughed harder. She couldn't remember the last time she laughed so often in a short span of time, like tonight. Well, she guessed, maybe happiness could do that to her.

He joined her in yet another moment of hilarity. He just couldn't resist it. They both rolled on their side and met in a tight hug.

"I need to clean myself up," she said, and quickly walked to the bathroom, ignoring his pouts that begged her to stay in bed.

She soon joined him again, under the comforter this time, and they kissed tenderly, slowly, for what felt like hours, while their hands caressed each other's backs. Soon post-coital slumber started to make their eyelids heavier.

"I should get going," she whispered.

"What? Where?"

"I need to get up early tomorrow, got work to do," she replied rolling on her back.

"Stay here," he offered, propping up on his elbow.

She glanced at his puppy eyes begging her not to leave him, and at his hand that was lightly stroking her arm.

"I just don't want to wake you up so early," she explained, "you have jet lag, you must be exhausted."

"I don't care," he stated, "you can wake me up. Just stay here."

She shrugged, smiling. She would have traded anything to get a full night of sleep, but if he wanted to be woken up at an ungodly hour, then she would. "Alright."

He set the alarm for her, then kissed her softly, switching the light off.

"Let's get some sleep now," she said. She rolled again on her side, facing away from him this time, and took his hand with her in an implicit request. He was more than happy to spoon her, her back pressing against his chest. He kissed her cheek.

"Good night Scully," he whispered.

"Good night Mulder."

Silence fell on them, their breaths the only sound in the room. Suddenly he spoke again.

"Scully?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry I wept during sex. I swear I can be more manly than that."

She giggled, bringing his hand to her face to place a soft kiss on his knuckles.

Silence fell on them again.

"Scully?"

"Yes?"

"Why do you call it vulva?"

"Well, that's the name, Mulder. What am I supposed to call it? Hoo-ha? Beaver? Honey pot? Coochie?"

"I like coochie."

"Okay, next time I'll ask you to touch my coochie."

Silence. Both of them could feel their minds drifting off to sleep.

"Scully?"

"Yes?"

"I changed my mind. If I manage to sleep through the alarm, don't wake me up."

"Why is that?"

"I've got jet lag."

She chuckled and kissed his hand again.

"Mulder?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

He tightened his hold around her, making her purr in delight, and kissed the back of her head. "I love you too."

Silence.

"Mulder?"

"Yes?"

"This doesn't mean you're allowed to get mushy on me at work, or anywhere else."

He smiled against her hair. "Got it."

"Good night Mulder."

"Good night Scully."

They fell asleep.


End file.
